A Chorus Lie

One day, I will smash the glass, so there's no more looking back with malice
I'd love to attack the mutant I hate to see
Whatever they say, there is no cure for bad DNA
Regardless of strength of faith, I'm still the mutant I hate to be

Replaying historical events, consorting with the living-dead, remember what the doctor said
"It's all in your (head)
Exceptionally slippery grip on reality
When will you stop all of this polycephalous nonsense?"

We used to reside in her imagination, where she could express all her repressed emotion
She had to hide it; they didn't like it when she confided her truth

Replaying historical events, consorting with the living-dead, ignoring what that lady said: "I'm just in your..."

Is it my eye, or my design?

Is this affliction a fact, or is it fiction exacting my distracted attention?
I am too many again
I don't know which are my friends
I forgot to forget my insecurities

Laughing at hysterical events to keep from being serious, remember what the joker said
"My best prediction is that with friction, you will react with undivided affection."

Is it my eye or my design?

Reliving historical events, I sense a great recurring trend for underactive over dead
Is this affliction a fact, or is it fiction relaxing my misguided intention?
I'm undecided again
I can't confide in a friend when everywhere there's deception

Is it my eye, or my design?