So you will never reach the oasis
Sitting here at this mirage
And fifty thousand bullets can be difficult to dodge
So much sand in your boots
Making it hard to walk on
But when you decide to go
You discover that you're already gone
So you know that you're wrong
But you still try to rationalize
And these self-inflicted wounds
Start to materialize
Buckets of blackberries raining from the sky
You try to catch them all
But you still haven't learned to fly
The rhyme and the reason lost in gray area
All this rebellion internal is causing mass-hysteria