I know that mindless dreams of violet sway the path,   A haze of trepidation denies the past,   The mist covers up a wondering hand,   And though I cannot feel I understand.      Whats wrong with me?   These damp clothes cover up nothing.      Does your mind wish for a tear it recognises?   A time where beauty gasped an open eyelid,   There's still a chance to rectify if you try this,   But a new thread cuts my old one up to pieces.      Whats wrong with me?   These damp clothes cover up nothing.