The leaves are turning red The wind is chilly And all is in my head A joke so silly If I am not aware And this is an illusion What forces me to care And feign confusion? If predetermination Will choose for me Why stop deterioration Of our reality? Shadows have more presence Than all the physical A fire's ethereal essence Now seems less mystical My soul is lost to doubt To skeptic over-analysis To a voice too soft to shout A dismal truth, a bashful emphasis The trigger jammed, igniting The light no longer shining Illumination suffocating And my mind's eye is hiding