Who’s world is this?
Waking up in shortness of breath
Missing five fingers, I left them with death

Dusty eyes prepared for the dark.
From early morning night to the late dusk of dawn
Lifes a twilight when your in a constant run

Bystanders throwing their leaves…
The strain to see is a gift bestowed upon we
The crystal clear are as blind as life appears to me

The desire becomes stoked the more I choke
Your tempted by the material shine
Drawn to this world that’s not mine.

So its ok to call it precious
As long as its wiped of the carbon stenches
and the bloods drained into the trenches

That that they love is what is seen
All the colors of the rainbow and everything in between
Unimaginable but somehow possible for them to see…

That that they hate is what is not seen
All the emotions of my heart and everything in between
Recognizable but somehow impossible for them to see…

The torments aren’t heard like the Leone Roar
Instead its ignored like a child begging for more
The plunder is restrained to the capacity of causality
And you act like you don’t know the fact of mortality
The most high knows the level of your morality.