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Under it all |
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A new world |
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A new world made with the hands of madness |
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These hands |
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They will always do the cutting |
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Piece by piece the pain gets worse |
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If only I could see myself right now |
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The gathering of flesh |
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Transforming my face into an unrecognizable state |
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Smooth out the eyes |
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Smooth out the lips |
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Every mirror is a past idea smashed upon recognition (These selfish reasons... the letter is all I left for explaining) |
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Will it be found? |
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Will the right hands deliver? |
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The heartache I left |
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Cut until all that is left is new material |
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Myself |
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Day in, day out |
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Deep down I know what I must do |
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So much happens behind closed doors |
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So much happens behind our closed doors |
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This key will open them |
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Expose us all |
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Crusty-eyed symphony |
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Awakened by my grunts and moans |
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Why do I do this to myself? |
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I suppose the choice was all mine |
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God felt so much better before the mirror glimpse |
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On the surface I know what I must do |
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The precaution documents |
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The failsafe way back "home". |
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Should I end it right here and now? |
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That would be far too selfish |
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I shall end what I've begun |
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The creation of more |
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More of us |
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The skin and bones of destruction |
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An army of weak souls |
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Weak minds |
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Weak life |
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(Written in a language I can understand. My brilliance seems questioned with these instructions. Fairly obvious for precaution documents I suppose. The "Night Owls" always send me back. Seems to be in their DNA) |
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.fade out. |
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I wake to my own whimper |
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Ship is counting down |
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Must regroup myself |
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The end starts now |
