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i'm often misplacing the conviction that i sell i put it on display so arrogantly sometimes being right is important to me i need the vindication but it doesn't make me happy it doesn't make me happy it doesn't make me happy i'm horrified by the prospect of defeat so many demons want to make a home in me and i want to burn their house down i want to burn it to the ground i want to burn it down, down, down, down i think that when i started there was hope in the tank somewhere along the lines i replaced all of it running on the arrogant fumes of self-satisfaction got me reeking of the odor of my own pestilence it's easy to miss the forest for the trees when every tree i see is me and i want to cut them down so petrified and i'm tangled in conceit i've got to find a way to burn what's left of me and when I'm finally all torn down you're rising up out of the ground From Letras Mania