Mental Pentitentary

There's a forged signature in the corner of my personality,
penatrating spikes seeping into the deepest parts of me.
Well, I never said I was the image of originality.
I never said I stray far from hypocrisy.

I've got a brain created on an assembly line,
my artaries are choked by the strength of conformity's vine.
Well, I never said I knew what was best for me.
I never said I wanted this for my destiny.

My thoughts may have a hint of cancer,
reflected off those who think they know all the answers.
My toes have slipped off my chemical balance beam,
and punched the mute button on the control of pleas.

With an addiction to contradictions, I slipped into a daze;
a monochromatic haze of lies, a catstrophic rage of cries.
Conspiracies and haunting melodies,
secure the lock on my mental cage.

I never said I was the image of sufficiency.
I never said I cease to be contradictory.

My thoughts may have a hint of cancer,
reflected off those who think they know all the answers.
My toes have slipped off my chemical balance beam,
and punched the mute button on the control of pleas.

Well, I never said I knew what was best for me.
I never said I wanted this for my destiny.