Painless
Secluded by thoughts almost never revealed
He lives in his mind and laughs at the world
Anesthesia benumbs his soul and lifts the curse that's taken its toll
His world has froze he's forgotten the past
His mind's been blank he's retired and left
A life of helping the young to live and the old to die and the blessed to give
But he knows, and the one thing that he controls is his state of mind
And that's where he's got us all fooled
We think he's insane but he's actually not
He's living his past inside of his thoughts
His thoughts are they real or are they part of his plan
To escape from a time which he'd rather forget
He's chosen isolation away from creation
It's his peace that matters to him and nothing else
Time, Time means nothing it's so fribble
And to dwell on the subject is so unreal
Cause of Death, Classified!
One for depression
Two for the lack of thought
Four thousand questions stare you down
Once a life of trust now a broken man
Your concoction of life lives inside your nerves
Handing out answers to those in pain
Seeking relief from this hell
Curious people ask "Who's this saintly man"
But he's just an object that has lost his mind
Sin dolor
Aislado por pensamientos casi nunca revelados
Vive en su mente y se ríe del mundo
La anestesia adormece su alma y levanta la maldición que ha cobrado su precio
Su mundo se ha congelado, ha olvidado el pasado
Su mente está en blanco, se ha retirado y se ha ido
Una vida ayudando a los jóvenes a vivir, a los viejos a morir y a los bendecidos a dar
Pero él sabe, y lo único que controla es su estado mental
Y ahí es donde nos tiene a todos engañados
Pensamos que está loco pero en realidad no lo está
Está viviendo su pasado dentro de sus pensamientos
¿Sus pensamientos son reales o son parte de su plan?
Para escapar de un tiempo que preferiría olvidar
Ha elegido el aislamiento lejos de la creación
Es su paz lo que importa para él y nada más
El tiempo, el tiempo no significa nada, es tan trivial
Y reflexionar sobre el tema es tan irreal
¡Causa de muerte, clasificada!
Uno por depresión
Dos por la falta de pensamiento
Cuatro mil preguntas te miran fijamente
Una vez una vida de confianza, ahora un hombre roto
Tu mezcla de vida vive dentro de tus nervios
Dando respuestas a aquellos que sufren
Buscando alivio de este infierno
La gente curiosa pregunta '¿Quién es este hombre tan santo?'
Pero él es solo un objeto que ha perdido la razón