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