Slowly console me

The mind's like a tree

Shaking and bowing

For the lonely

All eyes on grounding 

The top was buried 

'Neath lies on the storm with

Anomaly

He can't seem to figure

His quality

'Cause lips are for sucking and

Knees for bending

Maybe it's soothing

A waning disease

That can't spare the notion of a

Dead mockery

You almost got  away with

out my message

Your countenance was mine when he

Cracked the question

Existentialism is

Not for virtue and 

Can't touch the rest of us

The way it hurts you

When the chips on the table are

All for the self

The sum leaves without you

Then the process is hell

Ah yeah