I can hear the record of time, in my static momentum, my silence and my thoughts.
I'm beginning to think of this as my interview, but who with I do not know.
This figure is cloaked in shadow but the voice is pure and echoes in my soul
They're all too easy to understand. How could I understand anything better?
This is my interview with lightness of heart, moments of truth, so few and far between
My own make belief treasurer, guarding my values and morality's core
Are you God, are you an angel, come to judge me from above?
Are you temptation, my weakness of choice?
There are no words but reflections passed between us, across the chasms that separate us
Just you and me
In our interview
My own unearthly shadow
The mirror image of all my crimes
But oh, so silent
This emptiness that erupts from within you
Go back from whence you came
To the dreams I dreamt before
Those ponderings you divined
And leapt from to keep tally
On how many are lost and wandering
My own flawed lullaby keeping me awake at night
Lulling me into falsehood but my conscience has always survived
My very own interview, dissection of a soul
A semblance of self-judgment
A silent conversation, consultation with the world
And I don't have my answers prepared for the barrage of questions that I fire towards me
