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Words are not made to be believed

Truth is buried deep

In the veil of dust and ingenuity

Is there a verity in mysteries?

Are questions answers to your appeals?

There is a dark and quiet place

Where thoughts speak to men

Enlighten those who know that they do not know

To grasp the primal possessions

That cannot be taken away

Fountains of inquiry and doubt

There is an instinct and intrigue

In the labyrinth of words

Lies between the lines

Unspoken, not untold

In fiction and reality

What is there to find?

Inside the mirror of the world

What is there to learn?

Reflecting the unseen

What is unveiled by mysteries?

What you read, not what it means

Conceivable expression of the gravity of words

In the beginning there is a word

And in principle we are made to believe

Probing depths in search for heights

Along pathways of convoluted meanings

Enveloped in shaded uncertitudes

Which can you claim to hold?

There is an instinct and intrigue

In the labyrinth of words

Lies between the lines

Unspoken, not untold

In fiction and reality

What is there to find?

The instinct and intrigue

Laboratory of words

Read between the lines

Unspoken, not untold

In fiction and reality

It is still there to find