∞

Did I ever tell you
What you've already been told?
I think the story never gets old...
You're buried in calculations
Lost in translation
Trapped in a set of infinite rotations.
And this is your home.
This is where you play
Never to reach the speed to escape.
But you devise and devise
The crystallized plans that defract every way
And you never get out what you're trying to say
Words barely slip out from between your lips
And fall in your hands
And are thrown back into orbit again.

Did I ever tell you
What you've already been told?
I think her story never gets old...
She's a recessive temptation,
Retrograde infatuation,
Set in a state of hypnotized undulation.
Your heart is her home.
This is where she preys,
Never to find the need to escape.
But she feeds lies and more lies
That spend their days in the grooves of your brain
And you never get out what you're trying to say
Words barely slip out when you're touching her hips
But then she shifts in your hands
And you're thrown back into orbit again.

Repetition is a symptom of cycled insanity.
Repetition is a symptom of cycled insanity.
Repetition is a symptom of cycled insanity.
Repetition is a symptom of cycled insanity.
Repetition is a symptom of cycled insanity.
Repetition is a symptom of cycled insanity.
Perspective is stepping away from your vanity.
Wake up, my child, won't you stop this calamity?
Repetition is a symptom of cycled insanity.