Some things I can't discern, I can't quite focus my vision. I need a drink or two to wash down this bitter pie. Wandering through a lie, trying to find that honest smile I lost years ago. Here comes that wicked grin again. None of this is in my contract I don't remember signing on for the tour of hell. I guess that's why I try to stay drunk all the time. You say that you've got an answer, that you see it all clear, and you can ease my mind. Maybe you're just a touch misguided, I think you maybe better dry those righteous eyes. This ain't no fuckin' simulation, it ain't no T.V. program, no carnival ride. This has not been edited to fit your screen...so miss what you will. Lay flat on your back and imagine the sky caving in...like salt in your eyes. And nothing that you've ever seen could prepare you for what lies inside. Some weird substrain; passion and pain, on the edge of my seat; my anxious brain. Unconsoled by my own choice I let the wicked grin that seems so fitting on my face. Fade into the nether region fall apart and become an honest smile. Life out here is like a virgin whore contradicting everything it aspires to be. Freedom of my own servitude. Chewing up the remnants of a future where I once died.