Lyrics always help divide the real into chunks. Can’t believe that humans are pure bundles of emotion.
Adults don’t cry on the surface. Their only way is being nice to people. And polite. Respectful even if the counterpart isn’t all that thrilling.
The more they do and force through socializing, the better, bigger, longer, sadder sprinkles gather at the bottom of your belly. Screaming to come out. The disciplined emotional reserves. Converted into tears when surfacing to daylight. Those tears: hysteria and childishness. And all that creativity gets stored inside.