• Can you see it? Of course you can.
    It's the monster lying beneath the lies.
    The rhetoric shields it and so do the spies.
    Everyone flocks to this world of the dead
    so look away again...
    You can try and find yourself another friend
    but you wont...
    Because this world has nothing to offer.
    Nothing but a crying girl in the corner.
    Wishing and dreaming but never receiving
    even an inkling that there may be release.
    Because you can't have release here, only retreat.
    A coward's running and a wise man's cunning.
    We mere zygotes convulse in agony,
    tripping the wires of our own devices.
    Sending the arrows towards our vital organs
    to make an example of our ideals.
    They have every intent to butcher us in this world.
    This world of pink champaigne, of acid coated brains,
    this world where the men and the cats are insane.
    And why shouldn't they be?
    Have you ever spent one waking day here
    or even considered the unadulterated fear
    of the tortued children trapped inside
    of these T.V. episodes where no one can hide?
    It's like... an underground land of zombies.
    A cemetary where the civilized cannot belong.
    Where you try to overcome with shouting and song
    but in the end you fall, bleeding, to the floor.
    This is the zenith of your life.
    The grotesque collage of all your existance.
    So make your speeches or sweat from the sidelines
    because, eventually, they'll get their hands on your mind.
    They will make you blind and your teeth will grind,
    but somehow you come out thinking you're fine.
    You'll self destruct over the pain you forgot
    and I do pray that you blood will clot.
    I do... because it's falling on all of us.
    In a steady metronomical drip.
    A rhythme that will make you tear out your hair,
    rip up your wrists, scream to a false god, and ball up your fists!
    Never apologize for the world through your eyes.
    It's beautiful...
    In an indescribable way. In an indestructable way.
    And for us chosen few, we with the Angel Choirs,
    we are the only ones that dont sell our souls.
    For us this world is hilarious, a circus of trauma.
    A carnival where everyone is screaming
    and we're just caught up dreaming.
    A pretty world... with bright lights flashing from every angle.
    Don't you wish you could hear the angels?
    They're beautiful. I wish you could see.
    But they hate you... so much. But they love me.
    That's why they wont leave.
    That's why they give me this peace, this bliss, this...this...this glory!
    Don't worry, you don't have to listen to my story.
    Don't feel pity or connection
    because, in the end, you're the source of the infection.
    You know you are...
    So can you see it? Of course you can.
    Because you are stuck in the sand of this land