i've been burying my secrets
cause today's secret agents are of the chemical persuasion
robots believe in false dreams due to chemical equations
and i can't seem to shake these dreams
of falling leaves and flowing streams
carrying agents of devastation
contributing to my own degradation
i sense that death's been losing his patience
we've been hoarding the miracles
and something's gotten jealous
we ignored the cries, believed in lies
but silent artists tried to tell us
we can't carry on through darkness so strong
with both eyes sewn shut we'll never make it
singing our songs we'll carry on
claiming happiness comes if you fake it
it's that kind of thing that when you see you take it
tired of the games played out by the dying
stockpiling truths that no one else is buying
recalling a history that seems best forgot
thickening the line between what i am and am not
erasing a past that can't be forgot
what is the difference between what i am and am not?