All proof is lost in the evidence files
Facts exist but they confuse issues
Nothing is equal, not even thought
In the absence of knowing, I plead
As ink flows, into misery wrought
The truth is worth knowing, dream
Sleep escapes me, nightmare bleed
The ink in my veins pours from me
A vein is cut, all my arteries burst
Knowing isn't the same as a proof
Paint the walls, paint the corridors
My ink sprays across the room
I am well prepared for the end
The cold ground is my tomb
