This is my resignation from the s-c-e-n-e. Hating mtv is getting old. I said no once, got stabbed in the back while they said, "relax". In Sweden, they got it right, I guess, but where does that leave me. Leaving. Always leaving, never staying, good thing my feet are still in tact, it's just my hands that are killing me. Killing someone else may make for better poetry, at least that's what they said. But, at this moment, clarity's appeared, and I am gone, off to what I've found more in: the fact I hate the way I talk! Cynics mock all surroundings, I just wish to live with the ones that instead of hating mtv, beat on the floorboards to wake the tenants that they know are not asleep. The way I'm sure we're not asleep: we woke up in the same bed.
This whole "imaginary underground" has got me thinking, got me dreaming___
If we're all our own co-pilots in our cockpits made of tin and as we fall down hills of pavement___
It's time I grew and said to them "it's not what you think it is".
___we analyze the states we're in, why is it that when we sneeze there's a chance we'll die alone___
Alone, that's what I hope I'll want to be when all acquaintance leaves me, because if I don't, who knows, I might just see that no one needs me seeing.


Lyrics submitted by Aniland

It's Not What You Think It Is song meanings
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