I must learn to trust my past self
This censure, this creeping doubt
And I'm hollowed out
Hollowed out
Up, on the hill on the Summer Solstice
I made a sigil and I
Burnt it
I burnt it
Even I can't tell when I'm joking
Anymore
Crossing the Rye
I fell to my knees
I saw Angels in the trees
And I broke down
I broke down
I finally figured out what was missing
And said 'Of Course'
Of course
But of Course