Memories can ping-pong through infinity mirrors
That burnout the synapse to fire blanks at a k**er
Reflections stare eternal just waiting for him to move
They don't know he's not the truth
They don't know I'm the delude
A thousand pounds in milligrams of micro-sand phenomena,
Can bottle up the problems of a rotten child forgotten when you
Prop up the thermometer to clog up all your nostrils,
Watch the clots of blood drop out and turn as black as the andromeda,
Check out the barometer,
I am not a doctor like my momma would of wanted but I'm smart enough to conjure all my demons,
God damned, living like a heathen,
Tetrahedron beacon overseeing all my freedom
If you see him better beat him,
Cause he's running from achievement
Only cares about defeat and leaving puzzles in the pieces,
Needin' preachers to believe in cause there's nothing left to reason,
To relieve him of his secrets
OCD became his Jesus.