my word is my pencil   and I'm painting my world   I've run out of colors   and now I am stuck   locked and I try to escape   my art is transparent   and I am still stuck      you better try to picture this   what have been will be again   what we have seen is not the end   the interlude of life we will all gain      every time you speak of strength   I see your weakness   your lies reflect the truth      with mirrors attached to our bodies   you keep looking in my face   please turn around   I want to feel the grace      what have been will be again   what we have seen is not the end   the interlude of life   we will all gain      God has been telling me a joke   now I'm laughing at myself   I thought my word was my boundary   the time is far beyond twelve   I cross the line when I draw it   (and then I break the mirrors, to me it would mean luck)      what have been will be again   what we have seen is not the end   the interlude of life   we will all gain