[words & music: Barthold] The words left scars After they had silenced To see something grow Only to die away The illusion of you Always so intense
consider myself to be a part of the elite Suave and debonair because the rhyme is so sweet Been causin' confusion, magician of illusion You got a little, problem, here's a solution
I've exhausted every possible solution I've tried every game there is to play In this search for Christ-like perfection I'm convinced, I've only left
this day? All shame in my being My self control is fleeing Losing direction Losing direction There's no right solution Wallow in my illusion Losing direction
So this is war, more blood poured from the fountain As I'm counting on the cold hand Of those that abstain and demand More ground gained from the crosses
