Disguised icons Unscalable mountains Of submissive repetitions They rage, they burn, no page, left unturned This trumped up roaring Of a lifeless call The thoughts that soaring Will inevitably fall An act of splendor Will come out sordid This dismal ender Is always morbid Fatal wounds Broken bones Ripped and shredded The nails embedded Deed My sorrow Darkens back to the loss of all light My sorrow Ablaze in the darkness of an eternal night There was a light in the midst of our angst Which shone brightly on our misfortune And cast shadows wherе hiding were scarce So wе huddled betwixt our own darkness There we spend our time contemplating And arose with our shadowy halos What was born from the absence of meaning Was defining for our existence There is no hope for leaving There is no hope for peace There is no hope of meaning There's no last release Beneath this fragile surface My life is failing me There is no hope or purpose No, "To be or not to be" I want to go but linger I do know the solution At me I point my finger But I lack the resolution Dead, dead, dead, dead Dead inside, dead inside, dead inside Im dead inside