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This song is by Dirtyseal.

Confined to a room inside my psyche

Light reflects direct at pupils to spite me

Rightly, time to board windows to existence

In an effort to approach coming days with less resistance

I can see your shadow, image means even less

With a soliloquy of similes you spark to impress

I'm dejected by the fact I hear them through these walls

I feel rejected but intact from all the demons it lulls

Strumming chords to a broken soul, self-righteous repentance

With full acceptance of the future he now sees as a sentence

If I was feeling your fantasy, to life I'd derive

Given the chance to glance at me, I know you'd never survive

I show you walls and you can sing to them, awaiting the day

That I might greet you at the door to make the clouds go away

Simply to say that that's impossible

The lifestyle I've chosen has left corrosion, now my woes are inoperable

It's everything

It's everything- his wings have returned

It's like the fall of competition, like he's never been burned

It's nothing

It's nothing, just a passing effect

Although it had some inspiration, it was all indirect

It's everything

It's everything, it warms the heart

It was complete compatibility, communed from the start

It's nothing

Temptation only time reserves

Because it's everything he wants and nothing that he deserves

The rain splashes off our faces

But every time I leave the room, it's like the wind's trying to chase us

Haste creates nothing but trash, and so says a maxim

With significance on minutes for the person who lacks them

Paints the portrait of disparity with passing breath

And formulates the frivolities that will fashion his death

Depressed, little to no light now enters the room

But our protagonist's an agonist for leaving too soon

And when he does exit, she always makes him at home

When he returns, he drags the weight of sad states that he owns

He writes poems, hoping someday that they might be read

Even dictates them verbatim right off the top of his head

Like an unconscious force has found fuel within his suffering

Begging her to break barricades and start discovering

Two egos interact and distraction's the game

Because the second she steps in the room, she won't be the same

It's becoming more apparent, she's intrigued by the room

Smart enough for suspicions but not sure what to assume

He tightens up his defenses, reinforces, refutes

And just like spinning propellers, his dialogue convolutes

Instituting further intrigue, it could have been deliberate

Searching for responsiveness from every single syndicate

All in attempts to increase internal merit

If the rhetoric decreases, it's the beast that he'll inherit

Overwhelmed and narcissistic, time will claim it and wear it

Sweating the heat of identity- he can no longer bear it

Maybe a dream or maybe conscious, the face will return

That causes spasms of synapses and the muscles to burn

Opaque eyes, warped disguise, there is approach without motion

No warning, light fades, darkness starts to encroach him

He only questions whether he was even given a choice

But as he writes, a thought strikes, maybe she was the voice

Oh god, what if she was?

What was she trying to tell me?