When the contents of a membranous shell dry and turn to sand
The shell becomes a withered tomb and cracks as air demands
The things I need I hold them dear but the things I want hold dearer
Making promises to a faithless expression looking back from inside a mirror

I forget the me that I must have been before the me that I am now
I remember a year that I got through, but I don't remember how

There's something like a nothingness that's terribly illusive
The more I want to shut me down the more I am abusive
And when I watch the slideshow of the bits of me I'm dragging
I don't recognize the photographs, I'm not sure when (and if) they happened

The devil lives in the crossing place between two mountains in the desert
For 40 days he promised me his kingdom for forever
But I'm not sure I'm fit to run a kingdom of any kind
Every time I know myself, I leave what I know behind