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not so long ago there was a time |
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the naive animal was a wiser thing |
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and these devils that we accept as reality |
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did not exist here before |
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nor do I think they were meant to be |
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they have enshrouded themselves |
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with the comforts of wealth |
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inside this temple of material things |
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which they cling to |
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all because the hand |
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was much easier to see than the spirit |
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and upon the educated discovery of this |
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they have made their decision |
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not only for themselves |
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but for everyone else as well |
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everything you've ever come to experience |
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to anyone else here has never been |
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and will never be |
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life does not exist |
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memory is nothing more than photographs |
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a looking glass to see just where you've been |
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not what you've been there for |
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realize your insignificance to the universe |
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and to infinity |
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you will have then cast away |
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the pride of all these things you held so dear |
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agony and pleasure are a suffering to one another here |
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the wisest is the fool who realizes he knows |
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nothing, nothing |
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turn your back on this misconception |
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that the body is the temple |
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it's just the tool of the soul |
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the brain is only the house of the mind |
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and soon you'll have to give back |
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everything you've borrowed for this lifetime |
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only then you'll find |
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you have spent all this time |
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struggling for the wrong things |
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and all of your works here have been nothing |
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everything is nothing |
