---

Put on your face.
Graze and eliminate.
List fulfillment, day after day.
Or cling to a trace,
Of some half-forgotten taste.
Your suffering won't make you a saint.

Will I ever see you lose yourself,
To a nameless, timeless tide?
All our sweetest sins turn fugitive;
Do you know what I'd give,
Just to see abandon in your eyes?

Screens in your face,
Static as state of grace.
Evolution, or so they say...
Is this the day,
When things fall into place,
Or the empty-handed end of the chase?

Will I ever see you lose yourself,
To a nameless, timeless tide?
All our sweetest sins turn fugitive;
Do you know what I'd give,
Just to see abandon in your eyes?

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