Its pretty simple.
I have it figured out.
Its a trap.
This body, the hell of my mind...
It grinds us down
with its omnipotent mortar and pestle
it beats us into flour and submission
Until we cant think
we cant speak
our tongues tied with treacherous meaning and love
my hands bound by my own leather strap
Only more pain seems to bring forth the reality into the present
Only more love seems to fuel the confusion