An illusion of light flickers in the background / As the funeral of sores transcends through my pores / Generations of doom make the most divine boom / And the teardrops turn into bells / Sounding out through the ex night the end of all sorrows / Marked in the unshaped intensity of tar-black eyes / That start to see the world as it is / Half perfect, waiting to be fed / And lovingly tucked into bed

Beyond the shadow of art, like Siamese twins joint to the hips, me and my broken arrow / Staring ahead to a bliss never met / And there, as the brown turns to grey, the ruins of affection affect every inch / Through the itch and the scratch of an overpowering grudge / The chords and the noise intersect at a halt / As the heartbeat melts in their firm, crashing grasp / And the nothingness lies in a room full of flies / Disintegrating to a hollow desire / Oh how I wish that my infinite bliss / Was disguised as this empty vessel / How I wish, just this one time / That my toes point at my destination