Disconcerting feeling has opened my eyes for the very last time This faith stirs an echo I hear amongst the safe and perfect waste A slow fear still creeping in Invasive and persuasive like a whisper softly convincing me to move on Lay waste to all the tangible explanations Nothing's as it seems Spit out the words to this question The validity of my future faults Carving my intentions with this blade of distinction Digging deeper still in my skin Twisting slowly, opening the wound Spit out the words to this question The validity of my future faults Spit out the words to this question Where do I begin? This line scored from ear to ear Telling a tale of exsanguination These (immanent?) fingers pressed against my neck Bleeding out the destruction I command This calm stirs an echo I hear amongst the sacred perfect waste A slow fear still creeping in Invasive and persuasive like secrets quietly convincing, And missing the moral in these eyes