Suburban Me

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