I found a discrepancy, in every book of text.

I didn’t find answers by asking questions.
So, I just up and left.

Time. It dictates my existence.
Every person. Each one I meet, is a glaring void.
I. I fornicate with my memories from a distance.

Whispers, that don’t exist, leave me paranoid.
I’m incapable of pity, and I have no remorse.
Why do we deny, that humans are creatures of course?
Every commercial, and every tabloid has me annoyed.

I started with a notion… No. An idea!
An idea that was really more of an ideal.
These ideals, are no way to relieve the…
The… The intuition, no… The way you feel!
Sorry. I lost hold of the point I wanted to make.

I guess, in essence, that’s what I’m trying to say.
All these points… Does making them, make this life better?
Is each argument won, really the reason you're living for?
Maybe, I should have put this in my, "farewell letter."

Maybes... Maybes are maybes. No time to worry about that anymore.
Smile babe… The answers are here, lacing colloquial lines.
I… I feel the release; allow me to giggle in peace.

Wish for it, or yearn for it? Attempt, or succeed? This is the time.
Don’t be mad; in the end, we are all eaten by the beast.

I always found discrepancies, because THE answer... Is not in the text.

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