V1)
Like a thorn of atom, like stars that glisten, and gods that listen,
we weave in and out of the fabric, like woven magic, in a world too often tragic,
a life without color is not a life it is merely a picture, broken, faded, jaded.
And to be in this, is to be a witness, to the downfall of civility, the end of humanity,
And all dreams will vanish as the daylight finishes, and all hearts will beat monotone.
V2)
A whisper in the darkness, a voice in the night sky, a dream of a world unable to even try,
To remember what she was, what this earth could be again, without the cause of this pain,
The broken matchsticks, the endless drama, it is not fit for a puper, let alone kings of mirth,
As we dance this merry jig, as we dig our graves deep, as we roll away our life, like butter on the knife,
C)
Free radicals, shooting through the atmosphere, a world of torrid abuse and fear, a world of nightmares,
And you let it be, cos you are the enemy, to life, to me, to love, to god, to freedom, to existence.
We will rise like gods, and consume the sky, like a swarm of locust, there will be halocaust,
I will watch this world rise again, into the beautiful thing it was once, before the end of suns,
And the birth of endless night, as we stare deep into the gazing sight, of an eternal twilight,
V3)
And gods make men, not the other way round. There can only be picture and sound, these are just truths,
As thought weaves inbetween both, like a sloth, as we merge between states of being, defining meaning,
I am the human punch bag you love to hit, will my life will be more than this dirty fucked up shit.
