I have been questioning myself for years
And the answers to my ailments has yet to be clear.
Am I another failed vision to a cancerous veneer?
Or am I a complication in your quest for perfect peers?
You are my creator, so I’m asking you now.
Where am I to venture when you wear the only crown?
Of a panoramic crescent, another Judas above the ground.
Can you hear me? Because, these questions are the only answers I’ve found.
Why did you build me, if I can only be
Equal to all those who came decades before me?
Am I to be another donor swinging from hollow trees?
My faith is just another mannerism painted on your seed.
Medicine! I need another dozen pills.
My dejection fed to me with chocolate covered swill.
And you are still just watching through cloudy, mirrored glass.
I see my brother next to me. He looks exactly like the rest.
Does he dream of needles and the joy their pain will bring?
Maybe I’m the only one who questions where they’ve been.
Maybe it’s conspiracy, maybe just plain capitalism.
I’ll just keep on asking as you make me run circles.
Why did you build me, if I can only be
Equal to all those who came decades before me?
Am I to be another donor swinging from hollow trees?
My faith is just another mannerism painted on your seed.
When did this circle become all that I am?
The answers are questions, my race leads to brands.
Praise whatever god pleases your drying hands.
He who holds the leash will decide what God says.
Just fill my hands with your silver coiffeurs.
Just another reassurance that you’re sure to offer.
Does the shouting from the stands mean anything to them?
You wear a mask over your face, but inside you’re still a man.
You wear it just to hide yourself from where you truly stand.
I wear mine because I’ve learned it’s all I’ll ever have.
Why did you build me, if I can only be
Equal to all those who came decades before me?
Am I to be another donor swinging from hollow trees?
My faith is just another mannerism painted on your seed.
When did this circle become all that I am?
The answers are questions, my race leads to brands.
Praise whatever god pleases your drying hands.
He who holds the leash will decide what God says.
My time’s running out.
Your time’s running out.
I’ll never give up ‘why’.
Soon, it’ll be the only sound.
My time’s running out.
Your time’s running out.
I’ll never give up ‘why’.
Soon, it’ll be the only sound.
Why am I questioning our stance?
Why am I wondering who I truly am?
Isn’t this the only way to find out how we hold
To the questions that our fathers lived and died for?
Maybe all the questions are just masked prophetic lies
To give us the strength to stand up and fight.