Synapse
Linea Aspera
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A single moment was enough to create this
A retinal distraction when a scatter of light
Hits and forms an image
Perfection is the harshest term
The shade of your eyes is a curse, it's a curse
Don't look at me
Don't look at me
It hurts
The neurons have fired
A torrential surge through the optic nerve
I can't find the words
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The warmth of a body in an empty bed
When only the scent is left, only dissent is left
It's too late for rational sense, the neurons have fired
A single moment was enough to create this
A retinal distraction when a scatter of light
Hits and forms an image
Perfection is the harshest term
The shade of your eyes is a curse, it's a curse
Don't look at me
Don’t look at me
It hurts