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repeat these lies with me, all of you

of events predicted, but not prevented

if i was buried alive in a closet,

my bones would wander on the outside

where my imagination is residing

a scream that comes from beneath the sidewalk

my voice is drowed by the steps left to take

i’ve seen a stranger inside too many dreams of mine

she always finds me, and i don’t try to resist

it’s strange how she seems to be

a stranger who does not mind

because she will always be a possibility that doesn’t exist

i’ve tried to tell the truth

i’ve even tried to sell it

i have imagined the world as just one person

and that i can see through everyone else

but everyone has covered up the masks they used to wear

adapted morality will become a maintained threat

perception will be scattered and rendered adrift

so let’s accept that if there’s no change within insanity

then being sane is nothing normal

there’s only wanting lives you cannot live

and taking on burdens you will not bear

you will all try to tell me what you think i need to hear

but what i hear is what i know

and what i know is not enough