under it all
a new world
a new world made with the hands of madness
they will always do the cutting
piece by piece the pain gets worse
if only i could see myself right now
the gathering of flesh
transforming my face into an unrecognizable state
smooth out the eyes
smooth out the lips
every mirror is a past idea smashed upon recognition (these selfish reasons… the letter is all i left for explaining)
will it be found?
will the right hands deliver?
the heartache i left
cut until all that is left is new material
day in, day out
deep down i know what i must do
so much happens behind closed doors
so much happens behind our closed doors
this key will open them
expose us all
awakened by my grunts and moans
why do i do this to myself?
i suppose the choice was all mine
god felt so much better before the mirror glimpse
on the surface i know what i must do
the precaution doc-ments
the failsafe way back “home”.
should i end it right here and now?
that would be far too selfish
i shall end what i’ve begun
the creation of more
more of us
the skin and bones of destruction
an army of weak souls
(written in a language i can understand. my brilliance seems questioned with these instructions. fairly obvious for precaution doc-ments i suppose. the “night owls” always send me back. seems to be in their dna)
i wake to my own whimper
ship is counting down
must regroup myself
the end starts now