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