Topsy Turvy World
When everyone thinks it’s normal to sell your soul
Cutting up bits and pieces like trinkets
Processed and preserved into a pretty souvenir
With all the grace of a stuffed tiger, acrylic zombie eyes
And we think the headhunters were barbaric
Maybe it was just that they could see into the future
We make the macabre mundane
Laughing at screams, content in living death
Our hearts wrapped so tight, a disembodied beat
We float away in our precious heads
Banished to the phantom zone, by choice and neglect
Applying layer upon layer to this peeling paint veneer
Not daring to go near to what lies pulsing beneath
A topsy turvy world, a stuttering lapse of reason
As truth claws its way back, plucking at our pain
We call the signs neuroses and psychoses
We weave mad lies, in perpetual hide and seek
We tear at our own throats, make a grand show of it
But still, it remains as it always was
And there is nothing more to be done
Only undoing
Embrace the Paradox 