Twelve Tribes

I resort to impulse to escape the living
Facedown in your indifference
Waiting to fall in line
And I was never impressed
With your addiction to conscience
Pain has long been the lost humiliation of genius
And I've been misled to believe that I was alone
It always turns out better this way
Sedated so you won't have to feel a thing
I resort to impulse to escape the living
Counting the imperfections
Down the lines of my face