Benign virus On the verge of solitude Malignant cure On the brink of extinction
A flawless black With an endless wrath A tainted white On a cleansing path
Both shackled by the face of red A shadow of aggravation and indifference An entity of desperation and short-termed bliss The schizophrenic emptiness flowing through my veins Burns and stings like a venomous bite Abysmal loathing for the inner gemini Catalyst for the final struggle
The mind floats between a two-dimensional world Dividing the body, straining it's movement Only one can reign this organic paradox I need to shed my mirrored self
I am the final and the absolute We are the just and the unjust I am the beginning and the wavering We are the irony of ourselves
The logic of this realm is clear Yet distorted with no sense It's purpose both revealed and hidden Depending on the angle of sight
Bouncing violently in a vortex of tranquillity A vivid calm showers me, leaving me dry and withered Now a moving stagnation, forced to a standstill Due to the imminent failure of the soul
Benign virus, on the verge of solitude Malignant cure, on the brink of extinction
I am the final and the absolute We are the just and the unjust I am the beginning and the wavering We are the irony of ourselves
I am the final and the winner We are the end with no beginning I am the final and the loser We are the reversal of the living