| the smell of her perfume struggles to cover everything inside this ringing room
|
| though once subdued, the silence seems to sing
|
| whoa-oh, i told you so whoa-oh, i told you so my name is evidence, my role is undeniable, unless i’ve become inadmissible
|
| in crimes of consequence, i’m only as reliable as the defendant’s defense is defendable
|
| i am the kill; |
| though i’m unwilling to be still and accept this evil as my own
|
| personal — and sentient — will.
|
| nothing makes sense anymore, when murder’s just a mistake that you have made
|
| nothing makes sense anymore, so a sick and guilty man will be born again with
|
| conscience saved
|
| judicial precedent will see to that, i’ll see to that, he’ll see to that,
|
| it’s impossible given the incident, given his catatonic state
|
| to imagine it playing out any other way?
|
| he was admitted on that day, the doctor read his case,
|
| there were implausibilities he couldn’t place
|
| and it was obvious that there was something more to this
|
| patient. |
| something had been missed. |
| «it's this hole i can see in each of his
|
| eyes…
|
| where all of the events that happen in this real world kind of just fall
|
| through"
|
| it’s loneliness, it’s loneliness
|
| nothing makes sense anymore, when murder’s just a mistake that you have made
|
| nothing makes sense anymore, so sick and guilty men will be born again with
|
| consciences |