Was it a huntsman or a player
|
That made you pay the cost
|
That now assumes relaxed positions
|
And prostitutes your loss?
|
Were you tortured by your own thirst
|
In those pleasures that you seek
|
That made you Tom the curious
|
That makes you James the weak?
|
And you claim you got something going
|
Something you call unique
|
But I've seen your self-pity showing
|
And the tears rolled down your cheeks.
|
Soon you know I'll leave you
|
And I'll never look behind
|
'Cos I was born for the purpose
|
That crucifies your mind.
|
So con, convince your mirror
|
As you've always done before
|
Giving substance to shadows
|
Giving substance ever more.
|
And you assume you got something to offer
|
Secrets shiny and new
|
But how much of you is repetition
|
That you didn't whisper to him too.
|
|
-----------------
|
Crucify Your Mind
|
| Rodriguez |
