in the face of the universe
we lace up our shoes
and write lies on our face
till we just cant erase
all the traces of what we once were
and the facades now replace
where the echoes once rested
beyond a blue sheen
by the mirrors we can see
but not ever to touch
and the urge in your head
yelling live out the lies
and don't stop till you die
and be damned if you sigh
when you spew all your lies
so just get on the road
it'll take you back home
even though you'll never know
just so long as there's roads
and electricity flows
and we all know at its core
all these assets we've claimed
sprawled across with our names
are all just a mirage
resting gently upon
a thread made of amber
and opal and jade
and no can fully discern what's what
till the lights are on and the doors are shut
even then still all the mist remains
sheltered, yet cold
in a drab domain
a peasant at best with no answers to quote
trapped in a world of black and of white
where frost grows on flames
and moss grows on raindrops
and time stands on pinheads.
at least till the echoes come calling once more,
by then all uncertainties lay on the floor
you see, life itself can just bend like a breeze
so settle your feet,
let your hands lay at ease.