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 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 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