The pattern keeps repeating most attractively,
but its the patterns in the pattern that shape our destiny.
I find comfort in forgetting that everything is nothing,
and all this beauty makes me happy just to say I am something.

Cloud my eyes, i’ll be alright.
Cloud my eyes, and i’ll be fine.

Why is everything that i’m feeling nothing of who i am?
Now all the love I'm needing is going up in smoke.
Is there nothing for this daily dying that's lived inside of me?
Can't you tell the only thing I’m feeling is "na na na-na-na"?

The pattern keeps repeating as far as i can see,
and there are patterns in the pattern quite recursively.
But, i find comfort in forgetting everything is nothing,
and all this beauty makes me happy just to say I am something.

Welcome to the world of the depressed,
where the lights and motion take interest.
Welcome to the hour of decay,
where the lights and motion take you away.

I don’t want to wake up from this dream.
Run away from reality.
Dying inside of my memory.
Story of a living casualty.

I think i might just sleep this off...
I think you should just write me off...