No Wolves, Just Sheep Grazing on the Fabric We Call Home

I don't think I can find anyone here
Cuz all I see are phantoms of caricatures
Have you seen that movie that just came out
Coulda sworn I saw you in it

Is it strange, is it strange
The second person is just a twist on the first
And the third would make me God
Is it strange, is it strange
To think of you, as my personal art piece I know, its kinda self-centered
But hear me out, I think we're lonelier than we like to think

This fabric isn't hard
It's any color
Its every shape
That makes your head feel fine
This can be quite comforting or plain petrifying
Drive you mad
Or blind the man, power designed to mold to your mind
So if you're wanting, if you're looking
I guess here might be the place and time

To realize this paradise
Take this cloth and squeeze its truths out of it
I doubt it'll disappoint, cuz the fluid that'll ooze out can be every shade of
Bleak and happy, enlightening and endarkening
And what's likely is you'll never be the same
After having run these liquids through your hands



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