The bitter twitter of my fit of truth will pass you by
If you let it set and fret and stretch into a lie
The fathoms of your innocence are bound into a tome
As the demon of your deviance is found at home

We’re all lost at sea
Seeing you and me
Don’t you know it’s true
That I love,
Rather, hate you

Take my hand, take my heart, take me apart
As long as you are holding me, my love will never part
Papier-mâché personalities and syllogistic destiny
Are driven by the plowman out of sheer necessity

I’m climbing Mount Everest
All… by… my… self…
Can’t you lend me a hand?
Or maybe

STARS ALIGN along the Rhine and time and space a-circle
Does anything rhyme with circle besides Erkel?
Poetry, my addiction, it slithers, slinks, and slides
Burned into my skin and crawling in my eyes

Walls we build
Walls we destroy
Walls of hate
And walls of love

My cocoon, it croons and soon it swoons and opens up
Into a tomb of doom and gloom, the womb of ebon tusks
Ever touched by survival and revival of the vital fiscal thump
I know you can hear me when I tear up and tear it up

Hold the mirror to your face
Fold the searing light and trace
Sold to slavers by my brothers
Just for my coat of many colors