What is this ****?
This intangible thing I can't seem to overcome
It's all sorts of things that go bump, and I can't really define
Everything I've come to understand has been a lie
and I really did believe, now everything is crumbling under
the weight of my running away, because in this life
there really isn't anything to believe, nor anything to hold,
as if the point of my life was to understand, and come to find out
There's nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to feel,
just the epiphany that all there is to life is now, there's no tomorrow
no yesterday, and everything spinning in circles in the mind
is a fantasy.

This idea of carrying on, or of disappearing forever,
of me, and of space and time, it disappears in quite solitude
but to give it up, is another thing all together, because
thoughts are very convincing, they start out few
and eventually there amassed in numbers so great
that the idea of silence and of peace becomes just that
another idea.