When everything that's tangible distracts your lonely head
And weaves you like a tapestry on someone else's thread
...
You'll find that the embroidery will never seem to match
Designs that were original, the bias is the catch
...
What was in the distance transformed when you got close
And yet you tried to view it as something less morose
...
Possessive with your senses, especially your sight
You caught the kind of blindness that gives itself the right
...
To walk around the edges, periphery askew
And look to aberrations to tell you what to do