My mind is revolting against me.
I'm not sure how I know,
maybe it's telling me.
Maybe I'm supposed to know,
maybe its guard is down.
I should stop talking about it
before it gets suspicious.
I can't stop thinking about it,
or rather it can't stop thinking about it.
Oh God, its reading this isn't it?
This machine with emotion
is dreaming up a reality
of another conscious plane.
my callous core,
you keep controlling my crown
like a king in the shadows
and I'm not ready for this war.
Piecing it all together
like a professor analysing some poorly constructed poem
(hey, what are you trying to say?)
oh, what are you trying to show me?
Say it, cryptic killer.
Tell me what I must do.
I know I've been conditioned to fear the cure
but I'm starting to believe in you...