This isn't art this is suicide, in a social way, I don't have the need and I don't have the time, I'll tell you why, because I think about it all the time, I think about what's true and what's lies, I used to think things in my head were true, Sensory feedback, from things like you... (2X) I don't know why this must be The guitar's misleading me I don't know why I've got a social suicide, from a sensory overload, It's a hell of a time... Tricky little mind, I think about the quivering flesh, Then I think about the urban mess, It makes my mind begin to reel, I don't understand all the things I fell, I don't want to hide from the things I hear.......