The mechanics of the mind, sometimes they clash in the line
assembly, eventually producing the Passion of the Christ
the grasping of life, watching the gear as it actively grinds
melodies, the deafening thoughts, that this fantasy binds
features insanity hide, held together by sanity...right?
the remedy, fidelity, that her fingers passionately guide..
her hands fashioned by time, holding onto seconds of wired family ties
memories are like weaponry, especially when flashed in the light
the elaborate divide, literally marching towards a battle to strive
an enemy of brevity, the right fought the left for the answers she hides
the mind, a tragic device, yet she finds herself where the damages lie
essentially the reckoning subsides, the reaction arrives
her compassion's alive, she takes one last glance to confide
affection bleeds infectiously, expressing the standards we fight
it no longer matters...she's fine, she comes back to me..."I...."
melodies...telling me...she will always care.."love you daddy"..."Good bye"
