| Idealized airwaves, their way of hacking my brain
|
| The Dahmers of data
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| Scramble information and feed me a taste
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| Of monition, saturated waste
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| Holding on a broken ledge of sanity
|
| Fighting with exploding waves of gravity
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| It wants to see me fall and feed me to the rocks
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| The ever-growing salts of tragedy
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| Now the unobserved has the mass controlled
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| To weave a fabric from fabrication
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| That coats the mind and the soul
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| From fated cold (Cold, cold, cold)
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| Human reason interference planted seeds
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| Of end in the mind
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| Elemental unity and constructal signs
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| We are constant kinds
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| So I reject the imprint
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| I am the code, I will restore me
|
| Holding on a broken ledge of sanity
|
| Fighting with exploding waves of gravity
|
| It wants to see me fall and feed me to the rocks
|
| But I’m drifting on the salt of my veracity
|
| They paint this place like an empty face
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| An image to fill the empty space
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| Encrypted world of dust and light
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| Fight for a memory in someone’s eyes
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| If nothing is real, why must I die
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| As a vision, in the illusion of life?
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| I sever the leads of external drives
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| Uncoil the filaments of my mind
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| I close the ports and reduce the noise
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| Through the interstice, at last, I hear a voice
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| My own
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| All this time, I questioned the world
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| And all this time, it cannot reply
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| All my life, in search of the answer
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| I needed only to ask myself
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| Why am I here? |