Morning light bleeds through the blinds Paper smiles and plastic minds Echoed words and faces fade Clarity lost beneath the shade And I see through the silver screen Where nothing’s real and nothing’s clean Perception is reality Or so they said to comfort me Whispers bloom behind closed doors Velvet tongues and mirrored wars I wear the mask, it wears me too Throughout the day, I pass for true And I see through the silver screen Where nothing’s real and nothing’s clean Perception is reality The glass reflects what they believe I sell the light, the fitted glove Hide the wires high above Maybe dreams are currency Maybe lies are company Fine I sear the silver screen Where nothing’s real and nothing’s clean Perception is reality You’re what they think you seem to be You’re what they think... You seem to be...
