Translation of Fixes - Twelve Tribes

I resort to impulse to escape the living

Facedown in your indifference

Waiting to fall in line

And I was never impressed

With your addiction to conscience

Pain has long been the lost humiliation of genius

And I’ve been misled to believe that I was alone

it always turns out better this way

Sedated so you won’t have to feel a thing

I resort to impulse to escape the living

Counting the imperfections

Down the lines of my face

When all the regrets and failures

In you were so obvious

Pain has long been the lost humiliation of the soul

And I’ve been caught between

What’s real and what’s for sale

I’m not the one who profits

From stainless masquerades

I’ve come to terms with my fixations

And all your failing attempts

Faithful performances

The timelessness of your act

Won’t be the end of me