Faith, it looks familiar. The walls, drop a portrait of my past. And the hands of God they cry. As every second of the hour goes by. And the wheels kept pushing me.
Faded lens and broken scar, feels no compassion. Pale blue car with tales of gold, in the wrong direction. And I stand the prison floor, my thoughts are changing.
I crawled out of my skin, looking at my pain and self. But it seems I've fallen in denial. The truth I admit, something I long to find. And it always comes in denial.