Can't stop staring at the mirror your confused gaze keeps perfect time
You never let them hold you down you jump up and take the crown then proceed to hold it down you win, hands down
Just six miles the crow flies he fell in love with its disease he needs to be seen it's part of his God complex he dreams he is chosen so he's driving with his eyes closed as the pages blur near the end he still hasn't learned how to fly not for the faint of heart not for the ill at ease a never ending subconscious thorn in the side he dreams he is chosen so he's driving with his eyes closed doesn't he know the martyr always dies
