Stormy weather In the cracks of an altered art Hold my form together As a solemn heart I know that the marvel makes up the things I see And fills me with affection But I will lose the vision of individuality If I go in this direction Dirty fingers Washing down The need for thinkers To concede to clowns But, but, I don't feel sold For morning's sake It'd be more insane To sit here mourning saints I can't think no more I can't think no more I know I'm the conception of my reality I'm a brave mid from imperfection Does the answer lie within me, true dualities If there's no meaning upon reflection? I need answers I need answers I need answers I need answers