The worst of pessimists, covered by his own mist,
Does it really have to be like this?
He has an open mind, but his motivation’s blind
Can’t he just stand on his feet and switch the disk?

Trading his love for life for creativeness
Waking from his dreams, he wish to stay like this

Walking on his own, he has turned his records on
He knows all things will get better
He’s all right and always wrong, he knows where he has come from
But this only makes him sadder

On his path to self destruction, he is on a roll
Right or wrong, on his malfunction, he’s got no control

Moaning about his own life, for sure he won’t make things right
Does he really needs to be like this?
Why does he has to be mad, why does he wants to be sad?
Why does “he” needs to actually be “me”?