It all seems so straight, head down, keep it moving, might be okay
Can't see both lanes, how does the picture appear if we don't need no frame?
She a snail, he a speedboat pace, some wanna fold away and others ego chase
No wonder we don't relate, how we see it so different when the scene don't change
How it be both states, it's a mystery, blows like the wind still exists when it isn't seen
Same thing appear different when you switch the scene, like split through a prism when it hits the screen
Just trying to comprehend this duality, how we the whole yet just a part of the tapestry
We are strange yet chained to the family, skip time, flip sides of the same reality
Gears shift, it's a different sound, tectonic plates shift when it hits on the ground
Uplift in the crowd, everything appears different, it switches and switches around
Or stick to a different script on a space-time fabric with inferences
When it rips, we try to restitch inch by inch, but reality skips, any instant it's fixed
I'm on the other side, on another vibe, and some have the sight, others running blind
One is like a rocket on the climb, others rock, but I'm on decline
Struggling to connect, same feelings, never the same, we change season
Superimposed states of the same being, separated from the main being
Story changed before the ink dried, interlinked tide, blinkers on the eyes on the inside
We shift the slide, what it looks like on the flip side, this is what it looks like
What it looks like on the flip side
Uplift in the crowd, everything appears different, it switches and switches around