Wake up. There are lies in my head and they're always telling me, I'm dead. But the faulty of their tales, bleeding in my brain always seem to come out. Their screaming at me, like I'm screaming at them. I hear sweet, soft music play at midnight, it is not from me and I see no one in sight. The dreams that I dream, make me dizzy, because some how I'm not just in a dream, I'm in a different reality. Bleeding lies in my head, they're telling I'm dead. I seem to be a little disturbed by my inquiring words. I see things as if I am dead. Floating above this universe, taking in all that I see. How can you stand living with yourself, if you know that this world is going to die, but never knowing how to tell them why. A cauldron sits among the Christian Brides. Has God left this place. Set us here amid our decisions, Or is he here, listening to the lies and questions in my head? Singing voices telling me schemes, I listen to them, oh, how sweet. I listen to them and they listen to me. I thought they were lies. But they are just our moral agreement, telling me the simply reasons why.