Do I only have conviction

When my opinion lives in isolation?

Is this portion of reality

A frail and tangential foundation?



Who mapped the course

To this quizzical, grotesque junction?



I can't romanticise these demons anymore

I can't serenade another empty balcony

I can't endure one more eve on this fetid ship

With the insincere bounty of a mutinous soul



The machine grinds ever on

With a radiance perceived by wretched eyes

That lead me home again when I'm blinded

By the truth within my lies



I can't romanticise these demons anymore

I can't serenade another empty balcony

I can't endure one more eve on this fetid ship

With the insincere bounty of a mutinous soul