The Weaver

Mirror: Look — in me — mirror — reveals

The truth — and the pain — the death — heaven and hell

I cannot lie

Lying — right here — within — your grasp

The truth — and the pain — the death — see through the mask

I cannot lie

Mirror: Who wove — these vines — what fear — ful eye

What hand — on the loom — designed — this tapestry

You want to know

No oth — er way — mirror — reveals

The truth — and the pain — the death — see through the mask

You want to know

Man: No, I don’t have to look at you

You can’t prove what is true

I don’t have to look at you

No good to know the truth

Only kills reality

I decree what I see

Real is what is real to me

So just leave me be

Man: I can’t look in the mirror

Why’s it calling to me?

Should I look in the mirror?

What am I going to see?

Mirror: Just the truth, the pain, the death, and heaven and hell

You’ll see through the mask, witness the weaver of it all

You know

Man: No, I don’t have to look at you

No good to know the truth

Only kills reality

Man: It’s all me