It must be an illusion It must be ravings at least. There is so much pollution. In mind, and I don't resist. My dreams seize me With such dense mist I have an oppressive feeling That I may not exist
Take me back From this crowd They shout shout always shout shout
It must be a weird sickness The first-aid-box isn't full I call myself a genious I'm roving my personal truth My inside is a heart of the forest I'm half-full with a beast I want to end this with chorus Guys I may not exist
Take me back From this crowd They shout shout always shout shout