Prospect 2:
Under it all
A new world
A new world made with the hands of madness
These hands
They will always do the cutting
Piece by piece the pain gets worse
If only I could see myself right now
The haltering of flesh
Transforming my face into an unrecognizable state
Smooth out the eyes
Smooth out the lips
Every mirror is a past idea smashed upon recognition
(These selfish reason the letter is all I left for explaining)
Will it be found?
Will the right hands deliver?
The heartache I left
Cut until all that is left is new material
Myself
Day in, day out
Deep down I know what I must do
So much happens behind closed doors
So much happens behind our closed doors
This key will open them
Expose us all
Crusty-eyed symphony
Awakened by my grunts and moans
Why do I do this to myself?
I suppose the choice was all mine
God felt so much better before the mirror glimpse
On the surface I know what I must do
Folder 502:
The precaution documents
The failsafe way back "home".
Should I end it right here and now?
That would be far too selfish
I shall end what I've begun
The creation of more
More of us
The skin and bones of destruction
An army of weak souls
Weak minds
Weak life
(written in a language I can understand.
My brilliance seems questioned with these instructions.
Fairley obvious for precaution documents I suppose.
The "Night Owls" always send me back. Seems to be in their DNA)
.fade out.
I wake to my own whimper
Ship is counting down
Must regroup myself
The end starts now
Cut 'til all that is left is new material
Myself
Day in, Day out
compositores: Dan Briggs, Blake Richardson, Tommy Giles Rogers, Paul Andrew Waggoner, Dustie Waring
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