A mother's warm embrace,
The emerald forest's splendor
The kindness of a friend
A scoop of chocolate ice cream

Everything is laced with poison
That works on me in measures

The father's stolid countenance
To an honest, pure catharsis
The concept of decisions
Or trying to be selfless

Everything is laced with poison
That works on me in measures

A sifted moral construct
That builds the world up better
Like feeding starving children
And marching on together

Everything is laced with poison
That works on me in measures

From the completion of this circle:
The ghost of a reason
Can be the only thing we live for
Despite the things my father says.

He tends to see things more straightforward
He says he doesn't think as deeply as I do
It's not his fault but I'm just saying
We're running into problems.