The self-inflicted state of mind
a one-man struggle beneath the tower
i think the clock still exist
god just forgot to tap my shoulder
I woke up today
i wish i felt something
the odour of my apathy
just might be true
I wan't to be the things i see
the pilgrim that is me
but i know i ain't that free
the suburban me
Spirits rise and miss the eye
covered by the stench of judgment
as gods reflection test my pride
i serve the failure that's haunting me
Twisted visions toturing
who claims to be the one?
that filtered smile
just might be true
"on half-speed, tonight i suffer
satisfaction brings the unheeded"
Can you hear the message,
as i wrestle with the clouds?
i'm on the way to succumb,
it just might be true