Lay Your Ghosts to Rest

Under it all A new world A new world made with the hands of madness These hands They will always do the cutting Piece by piece the pain gets worse If only I could see myself right now The gathering of flesh Transforming my face into an unrecognizable state Smooth out the eyes Smooth out the lips Every mirror is a past idea smashed upon recognition (These selfish reasons... the letter is all I left for explaining) Will it be found? Will the right hands deliver? The heartache I left Cut until all that is left is new material Myself Day in, day out Deep down I know what I must do So much happens behind closed doors So much happens behind our closed doors This key will open them Expose us all Crusty-eyed symphony Awakened by my grunts and moans Why do I do this to myself? I suppose the choice was all mine God felt so much better before the mirror glimpse On the surface I know what I must do [Folder 502:] The precaution documents The failsafe way back "home". Should I end it right here and now? That would be far too selfish I shall end what I've begun The creation of more More of us The skin and bones of destruction An army of weak souls Weak minds Weak life (Written in a language I can understand. My brilliance seems questioned with these instructions. Fairly obvious for precaution documents I suppose. The "Night Owls" always send me back. Seems to be in their DNA) .fade out. I wake to my own whimper Ship is counting down Must regroup myself The end starts now