Seeking with my hidden eyes,
Happy wiles and foetid lies,
Crooked looks and corn-fed dreams,
Nothing is as nothing seems,
Curses, spoken,
Feelings broken,
I am the last,
It goes so fast,
And inside razors play their game,
And nowhere do I make my name,
Nausea is my hidden king,
Uneasy, anxious, everything.
The heroes are all getting old,
The story will remain untold,
Of a world worth all the strife,
Of a place that's filled with life,
Of a time cut by a knife,
Of the last true man and wife.
Of the last true man and wife.
