I'm an Albanian-American in Michigan
A Lost Angel, victim and product of the environment I'm living in
I'm listening to the cries and the screams that have risen
From the fire inside of my mind, dying to be written

You're lying if you're listening and trying to be different
There comes a day and time when you're surviving on your dividends
The ends aren't justified, the means aren't efficient
And at the end of the day, well it's night time for instance

The difference is, the inference of division
Between the art and the business should be much larger for the musician
And if that isn't right, then I don't know what it is
When you don't comprehend the meaning, it'll compromise the mission

Imprisoned in this prism of light, spark the vision
It's right in front of your eyes, glimmering in the distance
A riveting plot thickening, stick to the script
And if it sticks to your ribs, you know it is what it is, isn't it?