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