sometimes I wonder how eyes could gleam
beneath the hell I tread that I should deem
beneath the pain I feel under one's own regime
sometimes I wonder how eyes could gleam

there might be strings that I could not see
moving muscles of faces that I would guarantee
smiling, frowning, blushing creation of these strings might be
there must be strings that I can't see

the blindness of my eyes corrupting my imagination
the hardness of my soul corrupting my perception
the direness of my time corrupting my obsession
the sourness of my hope corrupting my salvation