Honestly?
What I regarded
Was not to be
The dearly departed.
In your sleep
You whisper directions.
To find me
You'll have to be clever, dear.
Tell us: are we near
A glimpse of tomorrow?
Gaze upon us:
She's a beacon of sorrow.
So many ways to fall...
All these ways
To receive information,
And industries manufacture frustration.
Aggregate the victims of pleasure;
It's too late to make it all disappear.
Tell us: are we near
A glimpse of tomorrow?
Gaze upon us:
She's a beacon of sorrow.
This is nothing to hide from;
Bliss is everything we should feel.