Can't stop staring at the mirror

your confused gaze keeps perfect time

You never let them hold you down

you jump up and take the crown

then proceed to hold it down

you win, hands down

Just six miles

the crow flies

he fell in love with its disease

he needs to be seen

it's part of his God complex

he dreams he is chosen

so he's driving with his eyes closed

as the pages blur near the end

he still hasn't learned how to fly

not for the faint of heart

not for the ill at ease

a never ending subconscious thorn in the side

he dreams he is chosen

so he's driving with his eyes closed

doesn't he know the martyr always dies