Do you talk to yourself
At least once every second?
Are you failing your health
As destiny beckons?
Inhabiting the habitual
Is life now just ritual?
All mist and no mystical
Sick of the cyclical cyclical
When days feel like nights
In the haze of a life
Find the rays of the light
That surrounds you
That surrounds you
Are you doubting yourself?
Are you crossing your fingers?
Thinking life's past it's shelf
As eternity lingers
Spiralling leaves, vanishing floors
Is that the life [?] before
As autumn grieves, do you feel more
Sick of the— sick of the sycamore?
Then stay in the light
And bathe in the bright
Golden rays of the light
That has found you
That has found you
Jettison the medicine
Jettison the medicine, get us some
When days feel like nights
In the haze of a life
Find the rays of the light
That surrounds you
And stay in the light
And bathe in the bright
Golden rays of a light
That has found you
That surrounds you