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Hidden in shadows of light, when the curtain's pulled |
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looked at with eyes sayings all, about direfulness |
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Should have preferred the comfort of nondisclosure |
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Slayed by pre-existence |
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Sweetheart, come here, touch me, I'm still me |
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the making of lies is not all to decline |
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I've been there |
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I've touched it |
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don't neglate my mind, do trust it |
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what's sacred to you has been put through my spine |
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Waiting for the verdict inwrought with secrecy |
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generative thoughts, from another dying bred: |
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All we see and all seem is but a dream |
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and darkness weaves with many shades |
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Sector senseless, your stagnant |
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Unabashed |
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Illdisposed |
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a shapeless ghost convoking me |
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Inside the church of non-believers I find myself |
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peacedecievers, my private hell |
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All the answers layed down to me |
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by higher power showing ways to victory |
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Deficient as a heathen, in terms of fortitude |
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singing out the dirge relieving me for you |
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All we know just goes to show our inner glow |
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and darkness weaves with many shades |
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sector senseless, your stagnant |
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Her gracious smile at mine |
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Sweetheart, come here, touch me, I'm still me |
|
the making of lies is not all to decline |
|
I've been there |
|
I've touched it |
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don't neglate my mind, do trust it |
|
what's sacred to you has been put through my spine |
