The broken minds are for the mad They say And shun it like a dog astray I know nothing of such a lie And neither did he Blessed be the unmasked enemy Of the righteous content mass
Some suffer to the point Where they grow numb Where they grow numb Others are so numb They deserve to suffer
He wrote his life in blood Reaching for a star beyond Which I, the writer, do not know What was – is – or shall become Where he showed courage I saw shame As I mirrored him in the common eye Of the herd Little did I know That when the world turns its monstrous head Away It reveals such an incredibly lonely place Where all is too much, too little Too much, too much
Some suffer to the point Where they grow numb Where they grow numb Others are so numb They deserve to suffer