not so long ago there was a time
|
the naive animal was a wiser thing
|
and these devils that we accept as reality
|
did not exist here before
|
nor do I think they were meant to be
|
|
they have enshrouded themselves
|
with the comforts of wealth
|
inside this temple of material things
|
which they cling to
|
all because the hand
|
was much easier to see than the spirit
|
and upon the educated discovery of this
|
they have made their decision
|
not only for themselves
|
but for everyone else as well
|
|
everything you've ever come to experience
|
to anyone else here has never been
|
and will never be
|
|
life does not exist
|
memory is nothing more than photographs
|
a looking glass to see just where you've been
|
not what you've been there for
|
realize your insignificance to the universe
|
and to infinity
|
|
you will have then cast away
|
the pride of all these things you held so dear
|
agony and pleasure are a suffering to one another here
|
the wisest is the fool who realizes he knows
|
nothing, nothing
|
|
turn your back on this misconception
|
that the body is the temple
|
it's just the tool of the soul
|
the brain is only the house of the mind
|
and soon you'll have to give back
|
everything you've borrowed for this lifetime
|
only then you'll find
|
you have spent all this time
|
struggling for the wrong things
|
and all of your works here have been nothing
|
|
everything is nothing
|
|
-----------------
|
Nothing
|
| Psychotic Waltz |
