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 
(We grace you with our presence and then we curse you for your acceptance) 
Your father is out 
He's damn right he should be worried 
They'll call you jane doe 
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 despise this sentiment 
Complacency invokes atrophy's embrace 
And so what if I can't leave this room? 
That never stopped us before 
(I've learned to forget my desires)