It's all over now...
The debonair lives that we've lead, the meaningless words we've said, all gone now.
These fabrications of immaculate thoughts portrayed one of pure intent,
but all was false...
We thoughts were merely fallacious forgeries of what we used to be.
Now, as the cerebral barriers burst with concealed revulsion, we begin to wonder...
"What has happened to me?"
Now the truth approaches...
Occluded visions douse the immaculate light within you...
Light becomes darkness; ivory becomes ebony.
You seek an escape from this new nightmare called reality,
but now it's too late...
Anarchy begins to unveil itself within the confines of your skull.
Your past becomes a haze; your future becomes a grave.
You trudge through the murky swamps of despair and begin to see the end.
The end of your pitiful existence; the end of all you thought was true about yourself.
You run towards the light, but then realize that it was only luminous shadow.
So little hope...
So little time...
Your old self deteriorates and dwindles to nothing.
Your old self.
Your fake self.
Guttural tones become a second language, and you can't speak otherwise.
Soon you become a silhouette of what you once were.
Who needs a lifeboat when your ship has sunk this far?
Who needs a body bag when you're just a mannequin;
a marionette tripping over its own strings.
A puppet without a puppeteer. An angel tripping over its own wings.
You think that you're holy, but you're really just a fake.
You search for the point while going in circles.
Where do we start?
Where do we begin picking up the pieces?
Can we pick up the pieces?
Can you continue on after learning that what you were was but a fleeting dream?
Oh yes, we are a fleeting dream.
We are just luminous shadows, torn from the light by the light.
We sing to ourselves while showering in sorrow.
Now we go back to the beginning.
Back to the primordial darkness within the depths of our souls...
Now we go back...
Aqueous pressures create implosion of the most macabre fashion,
and you can't help but to scream.
If loose lips sink ships then yours were the loosest of all...
but you've noticed too late... You've reacted too late...
You come to find the answer...
You discover the point at the end of the circle;
that your life was only a shifting plane made of the mask you once wore;
A nightmare hiding within the counterfeit confines of realities fake.
A midnight masquerade.
A fleeting dream.
