Our guise is that of an apparition
Enthralled in the vanity of self-worship
Our robe, our crown, as much a part of us
As the very marrow in our bones

We'll have you begging for your mother in the morning
Your father is out, he's damn right he should be worried

They'll call you Jane Doe
They'll call you Jane Doe

One in a million, one and the same
One empty chamber, one less to blame
One in a million, one and the same
One empty chamber, one less to blame
This is a failing institution
And I've failed to notice

I've learned not to
Despite the sentiment

Complacency invokes
Atrophy's embrace

And so what if I can't leave this room?
That has never stopped us before, before