Text: Mute Math. Armistice. Pins and Needles.

Paper-thin conviction
Turning another page
Plotting how to build myself to be
Everything that I am not at all

Sometimes I get tired of pins and needles
Facades are a fire on the skin
And I'm growing fond of broken people
As I see that I am one of them

I'm one of them, I'm one of them, oh

Oh, why must I work so hard
Just so I can feel like the noble ones?
Obligations to my heart are gone
Superficial lines explain it all

Sometimes I get tired of pins and needles
Facades are a fire on the skin
Oh, I'm growing fond of broken people
As I see that I am one of them

Sometimes I get tired of pins and needles
Facades are a fire on the skin
Oh, and I'm growing fond of broken people
As I see that I am one of them

I'm one of them, I'm one of them
I'm one of them, I'm one of them, oh