I stood there and realised, playing the blame game doesn't make one wiser.

When it comes down to it, we should be blaming ourselves for letting it get to us, isn't it?

...And so, you stand still in a standstill. Hands still buildin' castles on a sandhill.

Who can tell? Your living is an organized hell. The mansion of your mind, just an oversized cell.

The pressure... everything is done to a measure.

Like a feather fallin' slow spralin' to the floor. Strung up like a broken violin to your course...