Labels:text | screenshot | font OCR: Crewel Lye Our silent lives never give any token To that solemn lie - so aptly spoken. No obstruction of truth - misunderstood That our present state is far from good Hard at heart, all cares tossed to the sky, Prevailing thoughts fill you with "Why?" The sweet irony of existence, never known To stare at each face and see your own. No variation of thought from woman to man All we own is what we hold in our hands Living out each day until we finally die, Always susceptible to the Crewel Lye! Israfel [iCE/PSY]
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