Born in a pipe dream but lost in the streets looking for denial. 

Investigate the Superficial notion that this could be more then a pipe dream, the rusted iron still holding strong as we purify ourselves through its waters as we pass along its metallic interior, But we can’t locate any of the cracks that are ripe, For the lies that we birthed, from these tales that we spin, that we lose in this incubator that allows them to fester and grow, 

So we sit and wait for them to escape and live amongst the living, masquerading as nothing more then a myth that is perpetuated from our continued desire to not give them back to denial, I wish we knew how to stop making needles into haystacks, 

So we stalk these streets, trying to find the answers that are nothing more then the children of the questions we hid in our words, We spoke them to justify our reasons to persue what we manifested as the ideals that accumulated in this investigation, 

We searched for the superficial without ever seeing that it was ourselves that succumb to the seduction of our own tales, the rust that gathered on our metallic dreams we would never have seen, because we were too busy trying to find the lies we thought you hid in those words that you speak. 

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