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    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

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