He’s into a routine he cannot break out
It’s not of his making he’s drowned by the doubt
It’s crisis just thinking of going out the door
His life is a life that he cannot explore.
A life as a prisoner that offers no hope
No bars on the windows but still he can’t cope
A panic attack will evolve if smells fresh air
He’s into a world and a life that ain’t no prayer.
Thinking of it like a psychedelic torture
Think of it not having any kind of future
He has to live a life where he’s always found so unsure
Think of it it’s like a psychedelic torture.
The regular thinking of going for a walk
It’s alien now he falls into the shock
The panic attacks are predictable heartaches
Just going near the door he breaks into shakes.