A Subtle Dagger - Thrice

It infiltrates

Insidious

It feigns at love

Betrays our trust

In what we’ve known

Since we were born

The truth we’ve found in all we see

Points to design

Still our chests swell

We’ll never find

True answers from a wishing well

So feed us all

Another lie

To still our thoughts

Appease our pride

So we won’t have

To change the way we see, we live, we love, we die

Our lusts precede

Our blasphemy

Our logic reads

Like notes from tainted autopsy

Our souls they speak of something more

But we can’t look beyond ourselves

We implore empty skies because

Our hearts hold room for no one else

We extend our

Claws to grasp at shadows of the

Ideals we have

Lost causalities of a subtle dagger

Buried to the

Hilt in our hearts, blood on our hands