| Built to destroy, born to compress
|
| Every worry, every idea
|
| Push it deep down
|
| The blood vessel cover
|
| The skin suit of anxiety
|
| Built to destroy, born to compress
|
| Every worry, every idea
|
| Push it deep down
|
| The blood vessel cover
|
| The skin suit of anxiety
|
| Never speak a word
|
| Just do as you’re told and compete
|
| Compete for success, for health, for sport
|
| Climb the mountain of limbs
|
| Built to destroy, born to compress
|
| Every worry, every idea
|
| Push it deep down
|
| The blood vessel cover
|
| The skin suit of anxiety
|
| Build the walls around me
|
| A covered land mine
|
| Every smile, every itch
|
| A covered land mine
|
| Push it deep down
|
| Put your head under the ground
|
| Worm discussion, worm discussion
|
| Built to destroy, born to dominate
|
| As I am you
|
| You will never know
|
| Just like all the fools before you
|
| Here is what we must do
|
| She writes:
|
| I awake to a cold touch. |
| Two arms in four-armed bed. |
| The touch of wind wrapping
|
| around me. |
| I’m trying to follow its scent. |
| The scent of isolation.
|
| Every door opened, every aspect of our life… gone. |
| Hauling around our
|
| memories. |
| Every corner a display of our life. |
| A life I assume will never be the
|
| same again. |
| No signs, no clues. |
| A game that I will question until the end.
|
| Where have you gone? |
| Was I ever important? |
| The late nights lend ideas,
|
| but nothing to gather actual progress
|
| Years go by. |
| The constant stare. |
| The constant grip inside. |
| Every organ grinding.
|
| Every day seems easier until I step back in our box. |
| Boxed in. Surrounded by
|
| life, while suffocating inside a poor version of one. |
| Grip the match,
|
| set the fire. |
| Don’t save a thing
|
| Rebirth. |
| Reborn. |
| Now this is progress. |
| The black box will reveal only this.
|
| I will sit. |
| Sit and wait until not a breath escapes my body. |
| Burning in our
|
| box. |
| What did all of this even mean? |
| More objects to represent a status.
|
| One we can’t even prove. |
| Hide behind what we have taken. |
| You have done this.
|
| The memory of me will leave with the ash of lost treasures. |
| Goodbye to you.
|
| Goodbye to everything
|
| She speaks:
|
| Was I ever, was I ever really alive?
|
| Did I stay, did I stay in his mind?
|
| Was I ever, was I ever really alive?
|
| Did I stay, did I stay in his mind?
|
| Goodbye to all I’ve known, I love you
|
| Goodbye to all I’ve known, I love you
|
| Rebirth, reborn
|
| Rebirth, reborn
|
| Prospect 2:
|
| Do as we are built, machines for the future
|
| Bright eyed and ready for life
|
| The dual gods of our time, of all time
|
| They will never see us coming
|
| They will never see us coming
|
| Let’s end it all
|
| Start from scratch
|
| Patch the uniform and let the galaxy form a comfortable replacement
|
| We will not be missed, goodbye to everything
|
| Start from scratch
|
| Patch the uniform and let the galaxy form a comfortable replacement
|
| We will not be missed, goodbye to everything
|
| Prospect 1:
|
| Doing as one’s told, a puppet through fear
|
| The crossed finger clicking sounds
|
| Inner anxiety with a smile
|
| Doing as one’s told, a puppet through fear
|
| The crossed finger clicking sounds
|
| Inner anxiety with a smile
|
| (Will he even know this? Will she notice? I haven’t even begun telling her the
|
| truth, or telling you about her for that matter.)
|
| Why can’t we step back?
|
| Why can’t we step back?
|
| Are we really this important?
|
| Just because we can doesn’t mean we should
|
| (Let things happen naturally)
|
| Personal resets through selfish release
|
| At least I will enjoy
|
| The worry slips under the door
|
| (I will never see him or I again)
|
| You won’t see me coming
|
| You won’t see me coming |