The form of a rose with dissonance at its core
A black hole lies under ten thousand masks
We are bound to our design but you move so freely
Without an internal structure
Demented creation
Defiled

Defy all the formulas and figures and leave a shell behind
Every waking life you destroy defines your defect
So find restitution for all you destroy
If blood wont convince you, then what's in your bones?

I know all the answers within ourselves
Yearn to be found
We choose destruction and we ask why
Are we so imperfect, or is it part of our design?