When a new day begins, I sit and think to myself.
That all the people surrounding me, think they’re surrounded by wealth.
And as the day goes by, everyone’s staring at me.
You might say that I’m paranoid. But there’s really nothing to see.
Chorus: But it’s known, that the truth, will be shown. And I see, part of me, mystery.
I don’t know, where to go, but I do. I’m aware, I don’t care, about you.
Can Iron really turn to gold. Only alchemists know.
And if they ever find the cure, would anyone really go.
Do you have a grip on reality. Are you too numb to despair.
Is fate really a luxury, and if it is do you care.
And as the night goes by, conglomerations arise.
I feel the power of profound truths, distorting to lies.
Do you think you’re so original. Just take a look at yourself.
You’re average!! There’s nothing wrong with you. So why don’t you go to hell.
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