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No conviction in your numb mind
a hidden cell of chemicals
keep your soul on the projection
never turn on the camera
because
I kind of like the blank way I fill up my life
I don't care for nothing that gets me too high
I want some dampend spirits and blackend bitter spoons
I'm not looking for reflection, I'm living on the moon
No conviction in your voice box
its buried low beneath the guilt
it all seems real as you wisper
she lies warm as weel as you
and she knows...
here I am right at home in my crater
here I am feeling old
here I am wishing for a miracle
I need to know
That I like the blank way I fill up the sky
and I care for nothing you put in my mind
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