Sick of war, sick of terror, sick of faiths and their horrors Sick of posers and the true, sick of me, sick of you Sick of this life and my job I dread Sick of the living, sick of the dead But I know a way, and I don't want your help To escape this world, to escape myself Open the chest, behold the fire Step up to the line and take me higher Enter the night Enter my mind Intoxicate my machine Enter the night Enter my mind Color me white The perfect world is in my dreams, a vision only I can see A place of total harmony, but that place will never be Instead I wait for the grave Numb the spite and stay a slave But I know a way, and I don't want you help To escape this world, to escape myself Grind to dust and build a pyre Step up to the line and take me higher Enter the night Enter my mind Intoxicate my machine Enter the night Enter my mind Color me white