They dance and twirl like nothings wrong,
but silly me for seeing the lie,
the lie we all live,
but the one that we don't want to see.
They smile and cry and still they don't see that their path is the same as always love and passion, passion and lust.
How can they see when they just feel?
How can they feel when they're just mannequins?
Mannequins that do as there told that do as they please.
They sleep tonight under the moonless sky say there vows as if it were a line more to memorize,
they feel the nothing that plages their heart but still they act as if nothing's wrong.
Now tell me dear what you see,
is it the truth of their pleas or just the words that they speak?
They cross and kill indefinitely not by actions but my words as the darkness they consume begins to grow they close their eyes and hope for sleep.
Sleep you see gives them peace,
not by actions nor by fright,
but by places that they sight and there their hearts become one,
their lives become nothing but a sweet disguised and their tries become just a sweet soround.