| Inertia
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| I feel your iron grip take hold of me
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| This ego yearns for sovereignty
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| Sign after sign passing me by
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| (Not for me, not for me, I’ve got someone to be)
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| With a voice inside my head that says I’m living a lie
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| (Look away, look away, there’s just too much to see)
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| I cling tightly to my selfish needs
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| Blinded in this matrix of my programmed beliefs
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| I’m imprisoned
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| By conceptualization of thought
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| Separating myself from the whole
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| Warden, oh warden
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| Where have you left the key
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| To free myself
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| From this bitter, lonly reality?
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| A self-constructed cll
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| A self-constructed Hell
|
| Sign after sign passing me by
|
| (Not for me, not for me, I’ve got someone to be)
|
| With a voice inside my head that says I’m living a lie
|
| (Look away, look away, there’s just too much to see)
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| Everything so meaningless, my personal fiction
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| Terminally drifting here in my world of endless contradiction
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| Inertia
|
| I feel your iron grip take hold of me, this ego
|
| Yearns — for sovereignty
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| Disconnected
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| Yet I feel right at home
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| Alone inside, so alone
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| I’m tearing at these walls that surround me
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| Something’s got to break
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| Holding on for redemption, for some holy escape
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| Some kind of light at the end of the tunnel
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| Whatever it might be
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| I can feel it calling me, so warden
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| Where have you left the key? |