When you’re feeling misguided by all of your vices,
I’m the hidden disguise of identity crisis.
You take my advice if you’re not feeling the nicest.
I’m with you ‘til the end like Osiris and Isis.
Kind of like your psyche and niceness, I’m inherent.
I’m the white lie you try to hide from your parents.
I’m the bright guy that might let the “cold” air in:
I’m opening doors in your trite mind: beware it!
You’re staring at a situation: make a decision!
I start diminishin’ your morals after faking permission.
You see in premonitions, I’m creating a vision!
I bet you’re wishin’ my persistence had some great competition.
As you’ve gotten older, I’ve started getting cold feet.
Your shoulder where I stand has gotten colder than snow sheets.
You’re molded like a boulder now, tougher than troll meat.
Control is in the eye of the beholder, is your soul free?