| Who am I, I don’t know, I have no idea
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| When my friends look at me I wonder who they think they’re seeing
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| Search me, layer by layer
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| But inside I’m afraid you’ll find thin air
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| Yeah, yes, guess again
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| Who we might be underneath this skin
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| What makes me tick? |
| How should I know
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| I’ve been trained like a monkey
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| The bell rings and I start to jones like a junkie
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| What turns me on? |
| I wish I knew
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| Wish I could tell the real thing
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| My honest desire from my conditioning
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| Touch me now, now touch me again
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| I want to feel something real coming through this skin
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| I’ve been boxing with my shadow, winded and tagged
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| I can’t punch my way our of a paper bag
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| It’s as thick as you think, thin as the reasoning you bought
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| I’m a mummy wrapped in a gauze of my own thoughts
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| And I want to know who I’d be
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| If I never had bathed in the static, the snow, and the radio wave
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| The flickering image, the pandering thought
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| That’s been passed off and on
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| To be the blueprint of God
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| Hey yes, guess again
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| Who we might be if we could shed this skin |