The unconsciously constructed idealistic characters
That have incessantly obstructed what we know with what we prefer
Make it hard to believe in any means
As if what seems is real
When anything can say, "The only thing is it will make you feel."
So we're building walls and we will crawl, we're staying in.
We'll build them tall to face the wild and channeled winds,
But they fall unexpectedly and all will run
For miles and miles beyond what we can see.
Somewhere inside of me I saw a faint figure with a little gleam
And the appearance of glossed ivory to present the past like a projection screen
So now it's hard to believe in any means
As if what seems is real
When anything can say, "The only thing is it will make you feel."
So we're building walls and we will crawl, we're staying in.
We'll build them tall to face the wild and channeled winds,
But they fall unexpectedly and all will run
For miles and miles beyond what we can see.
I wondered if bones could take on flesh and dance again.
Can I peacefully piece together all the veins and patch the skin?
But all that we know we know we only know in part
For the foresight is stifled by a fluid now and the memory is marred.