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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
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