Third Eye Blind

And so the day drags on, behind these multiplying clocks,
Like a box cart crawling through the mud and stumbling over rocks.
This does nothing to my brain, does nothing for my mind,
Does nothing but sit on my shoulder and screams until the end of time.
But what waits around the corner?
What stares at me so blind?
Will these pictures, ever fading, start the ball rolling one last time?
Am I dreaming?
This pain feels too real.
Sometimes it comes alone and the feelings scream at me.
All these blackened days around us, feel an uprising through the floor,
Through my mind there floats a river filled with purple and azure.
But these seats are empty, they were never seated there,
The deaf and dumb so loving, these wicked dreams cause fear.
Am I dying?
So they say, that my time has come and gone,
And in between these pillows cries the raging wolven song.
So these days are never-ending, cutting deep inside my skin,
Runs this madness overflowing, where this dream tries to begin.
I’m awake for all to see, sitting here inside my dream,
Watching tortured souls so trying, cross that river filled with dying.
On the other side I see, someone’s waiting there for me.
I feel alone, on constant pause, press rewind to read the score.
I am losing, falling hard, can’t grab hold, the branch too far.
In these memories I see, golden rises in the sea,
But deep beneath my waves, lies the creature so depraved.
With the suffering I see still people staring back at me,
Wasting time in waiting lines, flies so fast before my eyes.
In these dreams, the rolling beams, scratching silver marks on me,
And from out the sores, crawls forth the war and the world was meant for me.
Am I dreaming, still inside?
My mind has opened its third eye.
I was blind but now I see, what’s still staring back at me.
The sun lifts up beyond the clouds,
Scatters rain and all my doubts,
And still on top those rolling beams,
Rolling through the dying streams,
Stares the man still back at me,
And the man that stares is me.