my word is my pencil and I`m painting my world I`ve run out of colors and now I am stuck locked and I try to escape my art is transparent and I am still stuck
you better try to picture this what have been will be again what we have seen is not the end the interlude of life we will all gain
every time you speak of strength I see your weakness your lies reflect the truth
with mirrors attached to our bodies you keep looking in my face please turn around I want to feel the grace
what have been will be again what we have seen is not the end the interlude of life we will all gain
God has been telling me a joke now I`m laughing at myself I thought my word was my boundary the time is far beyond twelve I cross the line when I draw it (and then I break the mirrors, to me it would mean luck)
what have been will be again what we have seen is not the end the interlude of life we will all gain
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