Portrait

Do I only have conviction When my opinion lives in isolation? Is this portion of reality A frail and tangential foundation? Who mapped the course To this quizzical, grotesque junction? I can't romanticise these demons anymore I can't serenade another empty balcony I can't endure one more eve on this fetid ship With the insincere bounty of a mutinous soul The machine grinds ever on With a radiance perceived by wretched eyes That lead me home again when I'm blinded By the truth within my lies I can't romanticise these demons anymore I can't serenade another empty balcony I can't endure one more eve on this fetid ship With the insincere bounty of a mutinous soul