Somehow we manage to get into the minds of opponents who notice every single move we make.
So in essence, every single move we tend to fake should be the envelope developed to seal away all their fate.
Under cake, I mean under the make up breathes a true soul. That’s what you sold to the masses.
Sowed in the mattresses to let them sleep on it unknowingly ’cause you we’re not willing, see…
You made my bed, I slept in, unwillingly. I’m silly for that move, but simply your past dues breathe light to the future…
…the present in past tense of wrong principality and harmful reality.
We live only to die. Die only for life. Smile to fight tears, but drop them in spite of fear.
So right here, your life line is my vein. I breath your addiction. Imagine me, far from fiction.
Kill the lights and listen.