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 want 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 judgement As gods reflection test my pride I serve the failure that's haunting me Twisted visions torturing 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
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