I don't believe what the mirror says,
What the window sees,
What the door handle feels.
I can not see what does not exist.
And I cannot breathe what does not roam
In the atmostphere.
I don't see the purpose in joy and pain,
In love and death - their worthlessness
The heart is only an empty hole
The soul is a detached shadow
When I dream the dreams
I'm cursed to remember,
It's my cup of world spilling
Into hopeless space.
Yet even if I dig deep to my lowest point,
I still won't hear what my mirror says,
Or even believe what my window sees.