So the red eyes they are brown and the daggers they are words
so the rot is just the same the revelation it still hurts
so the mind that once found patterns in the feeling of the worlds
now distracted by the parallel finds blinding lights of burn
so this can't be everything because I'm to afraid to say
that it's not just lovers' traitors that can tear a heart away
and yet you say...
no one's perfect we're all human in our aching human way
and the way I have to hide it is to pour it all away
maybe deep inside the chaos of a metal ring'ed world
I find order in the chaos I find order out of words
mine those emotions mine those reasons maybe some one else'll need 'em
all we are is Someone Else's story after all
and when He walked here on this planet did He find some parallel
between our pain and His creation ain't that what saved us ere we fell...
but it's a weakness it's an excuse what's the point the days may say
to turn the real--wait it's so real now--into something that's but fey
so the phantoms they are yourself and the great speeches are so few
so the truth is not so easy and so very rarely true
if the parallel is all you've got then maybe all it's got is you...