Waking up in a room of dark,
I can’t tell where I am,
This trance is taking over,
As it grabs my hand,
Being of unknown origin,
Why hast thou chose me,
Where am I now,
And who are you to me?

And thus he replied,
I am the copy of the part that’s not shown off,
I’m the reflection pushed from the top,
Still you ask me where and why and who are you,
Yet you know me deep in truth.
The darkness of your pupils where sad and lonely lie,
The world which you created with an atmosphere of lies,
You yourself a mansion of beauty and price,
But as you step in one sees the dirt, the dust, the mice.
The smile that resides,
Like the Pearly Gates themself,
Yet everything that leaves is that of the pits of hell,
The things that we see,
Is not the truth or deed,
Yet it is just that which we prefer to see.

Being I know not,
No near comprehend the means,
The things that thou say is a mystery for three,
I have no connection,
I am but one,
And thus I speak again,
Who are you to me?

Lie and lie again,
You see me very clear,
I look upon you daily,
You know that I am there,
With the haunting anger,
With the darkened tears,
Holding back emotions,
Them I am to bare.
You refuse to mention,
Or even utter now,
You’ve always seen me,
You know that I’m around,
Try to deny but that shan’t make the truth,
Ask your little question,
But the reply is in you.

Now I understand,
False, I’ve always known,
The fact that I deny it,
Won’t make it go,
I know that which I see,
I understand it clear,
I’m looking at a mirror,
The being is me.