Intellectual Reference Point Restoration
Is the truth really there? Or is it right under our hair? For all we know it’s been there all the time.
I wage my war on the world inside. I take my gun to the enemy’s side.
Nothin’ comes from talkers but sound. We can talk all we want to but the world still goes around and round.
All my instincts, they return, and the grand facade, so soon will burn.