aforesaid - persona كلمات أغنية
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when masks turn into needles
is there a way to make them disappear
every day
every hour
they just keep digging deeper
standing on the cliff
the solution seems so simple and yet
so chaotic
so
chaotic
do we
even
exist
inside?
inside of this tempest
“i” think there′s an idea of “me”
but can anyone tell if there’s a “me”
“i am” just a sculpture
carved by time and sp_ce
objects that have no control
but bound to undergo
all this pain
and all this torture
objects that have no control (“we are”)
but bound to undergo (doomed to)
all this pain (this pain)
and all this torture
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