Take what you've got, take comfort,
in that everything you know,
or seen will soon be a non existent dot.
Who'll save the world that claims there is no saving?
An illusion or delusion of grandeur.
Half of what I say is bliss,
the other half is meaningless.
Comfortable lines.
Wating for the clock to heal us.
Lost and found, but neer touched.
Another beating heart is lost: Interesting lies.
Waiting for the clock to heal us.
Alone in our rooms, miserable, a tornado or an owl,
come back and isolate the balance.
Nothing is real; your heart on your sleeve,
just another lie, transcend the pride,
oh the chemicals. Take your time,
nothingness is something
and something is nothing.
