All abilities of reality begin to intersect
Confusion, disillusion
Distort the dialect
Feelings, there's nothing left
Except a needle in my arm
Or a bullet in my chest
I would aim for my brain
But I fear there's nothing left

Hallucinations of all three
Auditory, tactile, and visually seen
A ******* of your fabrication
Lies and deceitful dreams
Your content torture is Mimicking
A hell with no heaven to be seen