Two Divided

We are composed of bits and pieces of broken promises.

Agitated alchemy is our mother coupled with Father Bruises.

Put us in positions of torment and we’ll mistake it for comfort.

Outside of darkness we are disoriented.

Dysfunction makes us tick although you think we’re sick.

We’re spread too far apart during persecution.

Cornered all our lives we only pretend to fit

In your twisted house of mirrors and sugar-coated lies.