Mirrors that show the reflection of opposing
Mirrors should surely show my face when I look.
But yet I remain invisible in this place.
And all the reflections are mist and fog even though
I clearly see my own hand in front of my face
I keep on looking on, staring and waiting for
Something to happen, the scene change. But you see
My fear grows, it throbs and it pulses, a heartbeat
that speaks to me like a friend that won't leave my side,
Speaking in tongues that are strange to me, teasing me.
Heartbeat is telling me this is what's real, and the
Place where all I see is my own reflection in
Mirrors, and the place where I see so clearly with
No fog in my eyes, and that place where I am so
Pleasantly clear with what's before me, is not real.
This is the most real experience that a man
Can have, where the mist obscures the sight, and where I
Finally realize it and now I know that the
Obscure's what I was blind to all the time anyway.
Through blind eyes I see while Jesus takes my sure hand.
