You lead a life which happens to be fallacious You live inside your head and happen to never travel far from it In fact, you praise the open road and travel, still you sit relapsing on obscure memories that only ever bring you to the borders of insanity
No one could have dreamed this up but yourself The world continues to rival and thrive and wallow and rise from malign characters and sensibilities
Or that so you think
All you ever happen to do is not much but Drive your self dry in misprinted thoughts and distract yourself from the evidential truth
Post-parched, you continue to further down a path which is only going to crackdown upon your world of disinfected affairs Soon, will the sooted streets that chafed your unworn boots collude And all that was ever known, even if it was but the faintest of an understanding as to how this time in space truly functions, Will soon perish in sanctuary
Soon will contemporaries all alike Recede with tides anew Soon will it onset the primitivism Locked behind plywood doors Soon will you know unfortunate Tribulations beyond recovery Soon will you be segregated from Yourself, indeed
Indefinite suspension will bestow a harrowing animation that will find Itself repeating until you finally cross the aforementioned border without any luck Of returning home to the sheer bliss that Was only good to you in youth Fair enough in the last years adolescence But unforgiving come the dawn of manhood And soon on