A Simulation of Memory of What Was Always

Sometimes can’t describe just try to rearrange
How the days run into the nights are run into days
And how we can get misplaced
On campaigns for pain states where everybody’s mansane
The people that said being who you are is strange
What they saw
And I saw that it was biologically impossible for them to look back at themselves without manipulating the picture’s overall
The phoniest makers met
I’m trying to remember the time that I would’ve meant or said this
And been among thougthtless defending what no one else stands with
When fear could hold back from unknown formulas and open ended answers
Nowhere made plans but to look around for a site to be inside the light
And it spills through the fold so slowly
The underworld is over
And whatever you thought of the world over that, know that it is crazy
Even if you think it is only there for the fucking
And you’re crazy to let it fuck you too I know it’ll never take me
And I filter through golden trellises
Sometimes can’t describe just have to arrange
Illusory blocks to build to the end of hate
The master ambition was tough
Love was never enough underneath strange days
Can’t look back
The ambition was too much wishing I could be half of what you need
Days running into nights running into