Akrasia

Cure my sickness you old man
Guide my conviction for sovereignty
Must I deny myself this life?
Do not seek, do not resist
You old devious trickster
Enamored by the mystery in the trees
Holding the answers forever withheld
Should it be so cruel, this singular way
Disenchanted, embittered by the sight before me
The mirror drops into a well of vertigo
Following the words of these old moralists
I see suffering disclosing the bare life of this wise man
The flesh of my own tastes bitter as I devour, choking
Suffering is wisdom, suffering is the way
Of the light they say, they say
I’ve ceased to be, I am no longer becoming
Just like the wise man, I live in between
The grey is void, the grey is free
Oh you old trickster, look what you’ve done
You didn’t fix me, I didn’t fix me
Oh you old fiend, now I see
Following the words of these old moralists
Suffering discloses the bare life of wise men
The flesh that is my own is bitter and iron
Blood soaked and blind, I’m ready for my lesson
Cure my sickness you old man
For I must be taught self-reliance
Must I deny myself this life
Do not seek, do not resist
Do not seek, do not resist
Do not see
I do not see