The sixth sense and perfect answers, they mean nothing at all
No matter how much I try to dodge it, it feels absurd
Spiraling into madness, again and again
All things with form are so delicate
Each merely holding its shape intact
A riddle born of what we cannot grasp
Asking where our thoughts are destined to go
Drowning, my breath feels like it's slipping away
Truth devours my lungs, bit by bit each day
With dull eyes, I peer into the abyss
Sharpening senses in a world amiss
Sixth sense and perfect answers mean nothing at all
Your smile shines sharp, almost enviable
A fantasy, outshined, by this surreal state
Interpretations, motives, thoughts that complicate
Distraction's a joke, every choice seems insane
Over and over, I spiral again
From days of mixing joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure
Even if I block my ears, I know the void's still there
I don't want to deal with all this noisy chaos
Yet logic, shamelessly, crawls closer without pause
Like a mockumentary, it softly declares:
"You're just trapped in a bad dream, unaware."
Novels are simpler than reality
Most of them end in such perfect harmony
But life, it strays and falls apart
Leaving the final curtain clouded and dark
The sixth sense and the optimal answer, they’re all meaningless
Before long, the breath fades away
A projection of the latent demon
Interpretation, motive, perception, attention, thought, and so on—
No matter which you turn away from, it’s absurdly futile
Over and over, it spirals into madness
Idealism often turns into pain
By the time I'm sick of the endless repeats
These few moments start to carry meaning, as the imaginary slips away
"Reality is eerie," becomes the proof that fills the void