8 Track Recording. A song about self-reliance and shedding dogma.
lyrics
The architect of my surroundings.
Is leaving me no choice.
I’ve tried to quit a thousand times.
But, I’m drawn to a muted voice.
To stay out late chasing stars.
And starring into lights.
Confessing to disinterested strangers.
In the middle of the night.
It must be some kind of illness.
It seems so masochistic.
To stay away for so long.
And then fool myself that I don’t miss it.
There’s got to be some kind of meaning.
A hidden purpose.
That I’m not meant to see.
Somewhere just below the surface.
So don’t tell me I should be praying.
For some kind of miracle.
I have more faith in myself than that.
I’m not the kind that relies on.
Some kind of divine intervention.
I tend to base my life on fact.
My candle flickers in anguish.
As look for the third end.
There never seem to be enough night.
And sleep as become my worst friend.
Now people tend to mask me.
How is your wife and child.
I don’t really know what to say.
Because I haven’t seen them for awhile.
So don’t tell me I should be looking.
For a good job with steady pay.
Once I did I know I’d never come back.
I used to lie in wait for
Some kind of inspiration
But now I base my life on fact.
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