vision of silence
The final mass [bad word] 
My dream of nonexistence is
More than a raged self [bad word] 
Never ending, persistent
Questions of infinity
In this endless blurriness
There's no answer to find

We occupy ourselves with the things we make up
Release yourself, time [bad word] an illusion

meaningful nothingness
That I dreamt beyond spaces
Reality, perfectly rigid
Cycle, broken forever
The curtain falls.
Unveils the beginning of uncreation
Wasted years that lie behind
They all should make sense now.

We occupy ourselves with the things we make up
Release yourself, time [bad word] an illusion
The view is clarified when we do nothing at all
Confronted by the end.

Why is it hard to believe
Nothingness is a part of it
Why do all these fantasies
Form unconsciously.

We occupy ourselves with the things we make up
Release yourself, time [bad word] an illusion.