LYRIC

The eyes are outward while looking constantly inside
An itch behind the pale distorted screens of mind
Cutting out the vague shapes from a memory held in time

Passenger of the self
Passenger of the self
Passenger of the self

The eyes are outward while looking constantly inside
An itch behind the pale distorted screens of mind
Cutting out the vague shapes from a memory held in time

Passenger of the self
Passenger of the self
Passenger of the self

When your eyes magnify
And your skull becomes a broken projector screen
Asking on repeat: "Are you sure?"
"Are you sure?"
"Are you?"

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