These days Jesus is a smoker
With an invisible cloak
Running on a schizophrenic rainbow
While we search for artificial paradise
To appease our soul’s appetite
It’s a kind of bottomless fall
Our chaos creates stars
As we walk through the dark forest
With all the timid insects
And aging is time travel
Cause soon you’ll be your parents
There’s an avalanche of power
That violates our psychic peace
When your only friends are dead people
And self-worth is in another’s mind
We need a fortress in our hearts
An anchor to reality
And a lighthouse of wisdom
Cause if no one agrees with you
You must be closer to the truth