The Devil Wears Prada — Isn’t It Strange?

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Navigate the map
Distinguish a poorly-written script
Am I the city center or am I an island?
Isn’t it strange? (Isn’t it strange?)
Am I all alone?

The doctor is running a few minutes late
No drip to compensate
Paper blanket pulled out straight
No room for debate

Nothing echoes within the corners
A door frame contrasts the space
Always distracted, these ghosts took my name
They stole my faith, all in vain

All in vain

Invisible waves through me
Intrusion entirely slowed down like January
Take a form pathetically

Isn’t it strange?
Isn’t it strange?

The doctor is running a few minutes late
No drip to compensate
Paper blanket pulled out straight
No room for debate