No really, everything's fine

The reason we're all disfigured
I will say it again
The reason we're all disappointed
with innocence lost
You're alone
You can feel the resentment
burning a pathway
straight to your heart
I say, kingdom come

Maybe your life is wonderful
I wish you well
Please understand I won't change you,
so grant me the same
I know this:
There's a plain white horizon
I want it so badly
It seems after all
that your will be done

And it's done
Reaching out
And it's done

We are all defenseless now
On your own, you left somehow
with these broken bones
These broken bones
But I am one with these chains
Come around and I regain
with my broken bones
My broken bones

The reason we're all disfigured
I will say it again
The reason we're all disappointed
with innocence lost
You're alone
You can feel the resentment
burning a pathway
straight to your heart
I say, kingdom come

32

Life is stale.  Words are empty.  Ritual is disconnecting. Reaching is straining.  Pulling back is frightening.  Time is threatening.  There's me, and then there's a barrier; then, there's you.  Life is perpetual aphelion and thematic loneliness.  Words, really, are empty.