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 odor 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 judgment

As God's 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

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

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

I want to be the things I see

The suburban, that is me

But I know I ain't that free