In one step I fell into grief over what I had looked past
None of the explanations lead to any form of proof
Always two sides of what we are
Creating dead trinities to feed ourselves
We are the creatures lurking in the shadows
We are our own twisted images
Drawing ourselves within the four corners of the frame
In the manner we so highly despise
In trying to separate ourselves we become even more of what we are
Setting up rules to guide us in an environment built upon the opposite
Fighting over the direction of the five points when everything is standing on its head
Why call it a sixth sense when we are just creating our own minds
Body and existence from an inside that has no substance?
Choosing what's reality and pretending
We're stuck in this collective contradictory hallucination
Blaming decay on seven seals breaking
When it's just the nature of things
The lack of it
