Paranoia has got me living in the city of dreams
In which men are controlled like puppets from strings
Visions have me confused, is what I see real?
Or is it something I want marked by a seal
Deceit is the aim of the wicked
Tricking you with lies
Voices have me telling secrets that others despise
Not a notion is passed without the eyes
Of the secret police who live in my mind
I can only express what I feel
My imagination may be hampered like thickness of frost
But I still manage to move, with nothing lost
I can still move with this soul
Possessed or not, I'm losing control
