Strings pull our limbs to the proper places,   Without restraint   The day begins with confusion. aware   Continue to construct amongst the pretentious puppets   Hands benumb to the sensation of consciousness   Swarms built to serve as copycats,   In the footsteps of the wicked   Eyes transfixed, hailed to monotony   Of the moments we forge, conviction holds us high   Above the infection of time.   Return to the voice of grandeur   Cut the strings and sing your song of rapture.   In love with the creation of lifeless bodies,   Forbidden to taste the truth   The sharpest needles feel like the dullest of words,   Spoken without passion   Begin to self absorb the reasons beyond reason