Room Full of Mirrors

Inside a room a man in white
Shows you what is in his hand.

Inside a room a man in white
Shows you what is in his hand:
Stripped butterflies battling in your head.
Room full of mirrors reflecting brains.

Nights of walking deads
Dreaming they're awake.

That is the real fake in a crystal reality:
Big shits made up as a caviar all the time,
Sunglasses masking red eyes, broken jaws.
You're a cyber-star, sweet honey, no body, no crime.

Nights of walking deads
Dreaming that they're awake.

Rose in a jar, drops of perfume,
Noses powdered, burning gasoline,
Flickering lights, nullified senses,
Rush of blood to the head.

Inside a room a man in white
Shows you what is in his hand:
Stripped butterflies battling in your head.
Room full of mirrors reflecting brains.

Nights of walking deads
Dreaming they're awake.

Inside a room a man in white
Shows you what is in his hand:



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