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