My head rests on my shoulders facing the sunI struggle to walkThe burden of this guilt I hide from you is growingYou’ll never know what it isThis is the kind of person that I amThis is the kind of person I’ve turned intoIn time of song I am the Kamikaze dreamerClog my own throat; swallowed by color tortured slumberIt becomes harder to breathe or think clearlyRemorse Instigates an overkill of self loathing the older I getSo I’ll rest my dead beat tongue, You’ll dismiss me anyway