Here I watch the crowds scatter

Vast amounts of doubts gather

I've steered my train of thought, trained the brain to block out chatter

Town after town, I traded what I had known

To sit alone and grow, become aquainted with my shadow

It's sad though, I pause my life to stare at clocks

I'm an impaired paradox prepared for when they stop

In a wonderland, wearing what my arrogance has knitted

My purpose is to lack one, and I'm embarrassed to admit it

Scared for when I'm finished, not that death's intimidating

But the afterlife supplies a pastor rights to live to shame me