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Prone Mortal Form (Only Living Witness)

Who's at the helm Of the purge that looms? Should I bother trying to see Outside of this room? I can tell you now, I'll be left behind On that fabled day When the beggars will ride The distant, crushing call to continue Makes a heart sink willingly Into a chemical bath Every insecurity reminds you Of the voice determining your choice of path Believe me now, I'll be left behind On that fabled day when the beggars will ride If I champion misfortune, is it just Just an extension of Dismantling a pale facade My disdain for convention