Have you ever tasted a gun barrel?
Tamed, wasting your life, cause you're born ferrel?
So tense, drawn back, like an aimed arrow?
Not knowing when release comes, do you care? No.

The fingers that keep you pulled taught, is the grip on reality we've all sought.
It's fake. Only fish hooks into our past thoughts.
Keep us on the line...and next one, till it's all gone.

So now our aimed isn't as pure, skewed by temptation.
Say my name and I'm sure, I'm viewed with damnation.
Am I insane? And I'm sure. I've got a few screws, lost on vacation.
But aren't we the same? I'm sure. Much love, and good vibrations.