I resort to impulse to escape the living 

Facedown in your indifference 

Waiting to fall in line 

And I was never impressed 

With your addiction to conscience 



Pain has long been the lost humiliation of genius 

And I've been misled to believe that I was alone 

it always turns out better this way 

Sedated so you won't have to feel a thing 



I resort to impulse to escape the living 

Counting the imperfections 

Down the lines of my face 

When all the regrets and failures 

In you were so obvious 



Pain has long been the lost humiliation of the soul 

And I've been caught between 

What's real and what's for sale 

I'm not the one who profits 

From stainless masquerades 

I've come to terms with my fixations 

And all your failing attempts 

Faithful performances 

The timelessness of your act 

Won't be the end of me