Idioma Origen:
The self-infected state of mind
A one-man struggle beneath the tower
I think the clock still exists
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 that is me
Spirits rise and miss the eye
Covered by the stench of judgement
As gods reflection tests 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
I want to be the things I see
The pilgrim that is me
But I know I ain't that free
The suburban that is me
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
I want to be the things I see
The pilgrim that is me
But I know I ain't that free
The suburban that is me
Idioma Destino:
The self-infected state of mind
A one-man struggle beneath the tower
I think the clock still exists
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 that is me
Spirits rise and miss the eye
Covered by the stench of judgement
As gods reflection tests 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
I want to be the things I see
The pilgrim that is me
But I know I ain't that free
The suburban that is me
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
I want to be the things I see
The pilgrim that is me
But I know I ain't that free
The suburban that is me