Towards the End - Funeral

Abandoned empathy

Is this how life ought to be

A grander theory

Morality replaced with greed

Vice become virtue

And virtue unwise

Material fortune

Our souls where the price

Within the sands of time is stored the data of our minds

Through the sands of time unfolds the tragedy of our kind

From the cross to the stake, to the trepanning chair

Another cup of poison is swallowed in despair

In the dead of night comes the memories

I recall the things that they did to me

The art of torture has its origin in hell

In our basic nature, the mastery handled well

We have been created in the image of infinite pain

The path that lies behind us denotes the future as it has been laid

To seek the truth

Is to swim in a sea of lies

To speak the truth

Is suicide in disguise

Cartesian reality

Truly caused by insanity

A cure for the disease

Remove what does not exist

In the dead of night they came for me

To remove the thoughts that they caused to be