Inner Struggle, Outer Bliss

This is a tale of a major revolution.
And it is so powerful that everybody pretends that it doesn't exist.
Everybody acts like it's not there, in the shadows, shaping us.

You're not secure. A crowd will be never enough.
It's not an agoraphobia synthom,
but an accurate perception of you aren't supposed to be here.
Holes, strokes, coats of sadness. It is too strong.
You just can't bear it. A reason to fight never costed that high.

Fake death pills wouldn't do a better job.
But when the sun rises, the only fool in the story it's you.
Of course we are accidents waiting to happen.
Of course it is the end of the world as we know it.
We just don't give a shit about it.

I wish I'd be careless and blindfolded like them, too.
So I wouldn't have to take the weight of responsibility anymore.
I would be daydreamin' all day long in this domain of chaos,
and nobody wouldn't ever piss me off for good.