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...