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Thrice >>
It infiltrates,
Insidious;
It feigns at love,
Betrays our trust,
In what we've known,
Since we were born.
The truth we've found in all we see,
Points to design.
Still our chests swell.
We'll never find,
True answers from a wishing well.
So feed us all,
Another lie,
To still our thoughts,
Appease our pride,
So we won't have to change the way we see,
We live,
We love,
We die.
Our lust precedes,
Our blasphemy.
Our logic reads,
Like notes from tainted autopsy.
Our souls they speak of something more,
But we can't look beyond ourselves.
We implore empty skies because,
Our hearts hold room for no one else.
We,
Ex-,
Tend,
Our,
Claws to grasp at shadows of the,
I-
Deals,
We,
Have,
Lost causalities of a subtle dagger,
Bur-
Ied,
To,
The,
Hilt in our hearts,
Blood on our hands.....
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