At first I see an open wound
Infected and disastrous.
It breaths chaotic catastrophe
It cries to be renewed.
Its tears are the color of anger
They dry to form a scab.
To the touch, it's stiff and resilient
Underneath, the new skin breaths.
As outwardly cliché as it may seem
Yes, something under thesurface says, "C'est la vie."
It is a circle, there is a plan
Dead skin will atrophy itself to start again.
Look past that open wound
See past what covers the surface.
Underneath chaotic catastrophe
Creation takes the stage.
It's all been saved
With the exception for the right parts.
When will we be new skin ?
It's all been seen
With the exception for what could be.
When will we be new skin ?
Fallacious cognitious
Spewed from televisions
Do Mold our decisions.
So stop and take a look
And you'll see what I see now.
