nothing here is mended, it's underneath my skin
hidden by the layers of my flesh-colored chagrin
newness i've not welcomed, or not the way i should
for i could not compel myself to move from where i stood
and so the clock has started, it's turned itself anew
keeping time despite the fact that i can't follow suit
i'm parallel to minutes, for seconds pass too quick
but i believe eventually my hands will lose their grip
it's telling of my nature, symbolic to the core
the way i want to hold onto the things that fuel the war
soon i'll be surrounded by all that i have made
the demons that i've kept inside will go out on parade
see, someone had been searching my lonely wounded heart
and piecing it together every time i fell apart
but i have reached my limit, my seeker left me be
in body - yes - in spirit - no - i'm circling this tree
its roots are the foundation, personified divine
nurtured by the fluids that are leaking from my spine
i'm mindful of the secrets stored within this source
filtered through perceptive thoughts and carried as a force
everything i'm made of are things that can't be seen
and that is why the seeker lives - to disengage the screen