With the search for truth as your alibi, you're getting wasted through white-washed lies.
On your ego trip to paradise, you travel through your pilgrimage with bloodshot eyes.
I got no sympathy for you.
Stuck in your selfish ways, you're counting your empty days.
Worshipping your misery, praising your own tragedy.
You poor little pilgrim; you loose yourself to find yourself, and you do it over and over again.
Forever lonely, never found.
you've been running for so long, your feet can't carry you no more.
Your soul is dead and your vision's like led.
And you got noe one left to blame but yourself.

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