There is, sometimes,

A veil over our minds, or sometimes,

It's a distinct thing,

Sometimes hovers over our eyes,

Sometimes it clings on to the spine,

And gnaws at the brain,

 

How ever then, can I?

Describe this predicament, or can I?

This old used trick,

Can I turn the eyes around this lie?

Can I show what you cannot find

Behind your neck?

 

Look forward, decide,

At what could be there now, and decide,

Do you let it stay?

Decide for yourself or let it inside,

Decide while it quietly decides

To have you its way,

 

But it hangs there, you will see,

When I grasp it and pull, you will see

A desperate brute,

You will see as it wrenches free,

You will see the clutches dug deep

At your life, your fruit,

 

You can know this, perhaps,

Reach your hand and touch, and perhaps,

You might feel the bite,

Perhaps you heard it beginning to sap,

Perhaps mirrors reveal its cold wrap,

Devouring your life,

 

Is it too late now? Never,

Until the harp sings silent, and never

If this mind can see,

Never is our lives trapped together,

Never is one to be twisted forever,

If this mind can be free