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

The precaution documents

The fail safe 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)

I wake to my own whimper

Ship is counting down

Must regroup myself

The end starts now