[Music: Dan Mongrain and Martin Carbonneau, Lyrics: Francois Mongrain and Phillipe Papirakis]
-We are lost in sanity;-
-We have lost insanity-
[Inspired by Don Quixote de La Mancha]
A restless wind turns
As troubled waters churn
Blind vision unfurls anon
With the mantle of prophecy
Battling sailless windmills [x2]
Peons his peers
As he to they may appear
The paragon of trickery
Upon the altar of ignominy
Battling sailless windmills
And the lisp of cherished lips
Lifts the lilt of idiocracy
His raiment of white
Tainted black with hypocrisy
Hating the hated, hateful of hatred
Reflecting an eye to see
Through the veil of mediocrity
A silver tongue wagging
To pretensions visionary
Splits the tangent with sermons of perfidy
And so now forked, swallowed and choked
Retched back for a new soliloquy
"Sanity may be madness
But maddest of all is
To see life as it is
And not as it should be"
[Lead - Dan Mongrain]
His face a polished mask
Cracks a line in the glass
Reflecting back
So the eye can now see
Through the veil of
Mediocrity
Battling sailless windmills [x2]
For he is no more than they
To him becoming fair prey
Even if he so aspires
Entombed in lofty spires
Battling sailless windmills
A soul riddled with scars
With the mien of mortuaries
To the bitter pride
Of tuberculosis
Hating the hated
Hateful of hatred
Reflecting an eye to see
Through the veil of mediocrity
Perched above so high
Air alone to impress
Self-serving
And vainglorious
Waiting for praise.
Lost In Sanity Video (MV)
Martyr - Lost In Sanity Lyrics
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[Music: Dan Mongrain and Martin Carbonneau, Lyrics: Francois Mongrain and Phillipe Papirakis]
-We are lost in sanity;-
-We have lost insanity-
[Inspired by Don Quixote de La Mancha]
A restless wind turns
As troubled waters churn
Blind vision unfurls anon
With the mantle of prophecy
Battling sailless windmills [x2]
Peons his peers
As he to they may appear
The paragon of trickery
Upon the altar of ignominy
Battling sailless windmills
And the lisp of cherished lips
Lifts the lilt of idiocracy
His raiment of white
Tainted black with hypocrisy
Hating the hated, hateful of hatred
Reflecting an eye to see
Through the veil of mediocrity
A silver tongue wagging
To pretensions visionary
Splits the tangent with sermons of perfidy
And so now forked, swallowed and choked
Retched back for a new soliloquy
"Sanity may be madness
But maddest of all is
To see life as it is
And not as it should be"
[Lead - Dan Mongrain]
His face a polished mask
Cracks a line in the glass
Reflecting back
So the eye can now see
Through the veil of
Mediocrity
Battling sailless windmills [x2]
For he is no more than they
To him becoming fair prey
Even if he so aspires
Entombed in lofty spires
Battling sailless windmills
A soul riddled with scars
With the mien of mortuaries
To the bitter pride
Of tuberculosis
Hating the hated
Hateful of hatred
Reflecting an eye to see
Through the veil of mediocrity
Perched above so high
Air alone to impress
Self-serving
And vainglorious
Waiting for praise.
-We are lost in sanity;-
-We have lost insanity-
[Inspired by Don Quixote de La Mancha]
A restless wind turns
As troubled waters churn
Blind vision unfurls anon
With the mantle of prophecy
Battling sailless windmills [x2]
Peons his peers
As he to they may appear
The paragon of trickery
Upon the altar of ignominy
Battling sailless windmills
And the lisp of cherished lips
Lifts the lilt of idiocracy
His raiment of white
Tainted black with hypocrisy
Hating the hated, hateful of hatred
Reflecting an eye to see
Through the veil of mediocrity
A silver tongue wagging
To pretensions visionary
Splits the tangent with sermons of perfidy
And so now forked, swallowed and choked
Retched back for a new soliloquy
"Sanity may be madness
But maddest of all is
To see life as it is
And not as it should be"
[Lead - Dan Mongrain]
His face a polished mask
Cracks a line in the glass
Reflecting back
So the eye can now see
Through the veil of
Mediocrity
Battling sailless windmills [x2]
For he is no more than they
To him becoming fair prey
Even if he so aspires
Entombed in lofty spires
Battling sailless windmills
A soul riddled with scars
With the mien of mortuaries
To the bitter pride
Of tuberculosis
Hating the hated
Hateful of hatred
Reflecting an eye to see
Through the veil of mediocrity
Perched above so high
Air alone to impress
Self-serving
And vainglorious
Waiting for praise.