Place your palette on your passiveness what do you ask of this Your apathetic portraits of your lavishness Havoc gets the upper hand tainted by the savages Passion of disaster is habits turned to sacrilege Your abandonments cannot be covered up Little clues you leave behind you think they're subtle But it's enough for the colors to be skewed It's only so plain to see the reflections in your hue I see through I see your true colors The irony you stand for you not being you Taken in by this illusion of mistaken friends And breaking ends to make new Inside it's a bitter sweet symphony Underneath the bridge of broken symmetry Where it hides all distractions have quieted And eyes get wide to the truth You hide it visibly Could it be it's just your misery? Killing these selfish dreams without a drop of sympathy Or your empathy It's just an artificial memory