It is the forbidden entity that lurks
The void that warps around your misty hands
It wanders aimlesly throughout your head
Working out towards the greater existence of space
Thinking about tommorow in terms of equalities
Mathematical illusions concerning our sentimental graphs
We try our best to cover up our optimistic toys
In spite of pessimists dressed as black holes, in conglomeration
With our deviant white holes
An end for an end without the means
