Are You Okay, Kiddo?

Our guise is that of an apparition

Enthralled in the vanity of self-worship

Our robe, our crown, as much a part of us

As the very marrow in our bones

We'll have you begging for your mother in the morning

Your father is out, he's damn right he should be worried

They'll call you Jane Doe

They'll call you Jane Doe

One in a million, one and the same

One empty chamber, one less to blame

One in a million, one and the same

One empty chamber, one less to blame

This is a failing institution

And I've failed to notice

I've learned not to

Despite the sentiment

Complacency invokes

Atrophy's embrace

And so what if I can't leave this room?

That has never stopped us before, before