No time for the actions of a baby
Gotta take big steps backwards to where we were happy
We've settled the score with what you were searching for
And battled compromise all along the way
We're rewinding the tapes and starting over today
You have to cut off excess limbs even to fit in an irregular mold
Never dreaming it was your soul you sold
Little by little, and bit by bit
For a much cheaper price than we would like to admit
Read the fortune on the wall; the one that's making you sick
Fitting feet to cement footprints is only glamourized defeat
So many soldiers marching sideways, gaining nothing; incomplete
We cosmeticize mediocrity, claim to find beauty in the great inane
Nothing but jesters and village idiots dancing here
Winning in the short run, but we all lose the game
Be wary of the patterns; beatific and obscene
Sold yourself out for a face on the screen
Knowing all along it was never going to be the real thing
Because hobbies aren't dreams
Just a picture-within-picture of a much bigger scene
