At first I see an open wound infected and disastrous It breathes chaotic catastrophe it cries to be renewed Its tears are the color of anger, they dry to form a scab To the touch, its stiff and resilient, underneath, the new skin breathes As outwardly cliche as it may seem, yes, something under the surface says, "C`est la vie" It is a circle, there is a plan dead skin will atrophy itself to start again Look closely at the open wound see past what covers the surface Underneath chaotic catastrophe, creation takes stage. Its all been saved with exception for the right parts When will we be new skin? Its all been seen with exception for what could be When will we be new skin? Fallacious cognitions spewed from televisions do mold our decisions. So stop and take a look, and you`ll see what I see now
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