Cassiopeia, cause of my dysphoria Like a bad bacteria, result in nausea I still don't need no one, yeah we'll see what I become A New Yorker on the run Gotta make something of myself, gotta be someone Stranger than the sound of over-stimulation all around Silence echoes louder in this town I wonder what metaphor this part of life is now I fill the empty space asking why and how Cassiopeia, cause of my dysphoria Like a bad bacteria, result in nausea I still don't need no one, yeah we'll see what I become A New Yorker on the run Gotta make something of myself, gotta be someone So long old friend I've gone off the deep end