(this one hasn't yet been seen through eyes, so enjoy)
Schizophrenic are the conversations I hear in my headset, with the solitude of my eager regret, dividing the solitude of my lesser life sentence,
To an entire life of pain and misery, I ask myself about this gentle grievency, could it be owned up to a life of cold indecency, or is there another reason to be the man that I wanted to be, or is there another reason to dig myself deeper than I have to be, to an entire life of embarassment, and to all the bitter harassment
