i see the man in the corner, hes got a plan with limitations.
sets an obstruction, human life the abstraction,
a preconceived notion of where he should flow
and he'll compare himself to the other man
in the circular room no doors or windows so he'll stay there too.
and as we're both locked away into this ignorant hell,
im drained of life, my hands are bound to this cell.
entering another's perspective to gain new sight,
i cant see before i believe reflections of this world.
comprehensions of what is real.
if i shut my eyes to the possibilities i might just drown
in a desert of myself.
and as we're both locked away into this ignorant hell,
i'm drained of life, my hands are bound to this cell.
i'm the voice of the man who believes there's more.
i'm the blood of the body that beats at death's door.
what is this window self?
i cant believe whats been told
is all thats mean to be.
am i losing... focus