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There is red in the white, laze of the iron head

Filled with malfunction, meaning glossed over and worn

Equilibrium fault and I slip again

Dissolving explanations never meant anything anyway

You can't hear me

It echoes in the fragments, vault of riven bone

You can't hear me, but maybe thats for the best

As breaking shoulders fold into this caverned chest

Seeping words drip through the cracking earth

Cram them in the brittle stone

Body of a sinking cage

Impulse degenerates, fingers fade and blur the line

Neon trails of the meaningless loss defined

Nails broken and splintered from clawing at gates of time

I no longer understand what it means to be alive

I no longer understand

Grief fills these cyclothymic depths and stills these rusting lungs

Swallowed by the shame and sorrow of what I have become

Fleeting moments of electric transparency

Lost in the labyrinth internal, they mean nothing to me

They mean nothing to me

Nothing