I've been writing you a letter for so longnIn my head it says we just can't go onnCause I'm a coward and a thief of the worst kindnIn your mindnMade apathetic by delusions of emotion over timennIt's been four weeks since I dropped outnAnd it's been five months since I've donennI know I should be calling and writing you love lettersnBut I'm lost in a cloud of smoke in a tent made out of peacock feathersnA hundred eyes that don't blinknSinking in syncnWith their thoughts in my head, ohnA hundred beasts without milesnTalkin' 'bout how they all want me deadnnI'll be strung out on a cross of tin, maybe then my life but a piece I should waste (?)nKilled in anger by my enemies that make the days, I saynI could only dream of going out like that somedaynHaving thoughts of my own, being far from homenDo you know what it'd be like to be a modern worldnIt would be electrifyingnnI don't believe in the myth of famenAnd I know I'm part of a class that doesn't ranknBut you don't have to break a person's armnAnd there's more than how to leave a scarnnI don't believe in the myth of famenAnd I won't let my chance up, no I don't feel the same