| How come I shiver, hurt and bleed | |
| If in dreams | |
| I cannot truly feel? | |
| Who would dare say, who would claim | |
| This hallucination isn't real? | |
| Synoptical glitch looking glass | |
| So enticing, real and free of lies | |
| Prodigious, omnifarious | |
| It nourishes, it feeds my starving eyes | |
| Artificial, the catalyst, organic, its progeny | |
| Voracious spectral offspring, so sweet in its hunger | |
| Unbound this new vision, optical re-genesis | |
| Threatening, so complete in beautiful deformity | |
| These authoritive visions order my collective senses | |
| My questioning, doubtful, rigid self to kneel | |
| A Judas syndrome in effect, former self, the deceiver | |
| Its denial, the wretched kiss that kept this in disguise | |
| Cast off the concealing veil, the rational cloak of doubt | |
| Torn off the restraints, the vile shackles | |
| Burned away, the agony, the fear, the grief | |
| A new set of eyes cleansed by a new belief |
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