Faced carved from this alabaster stone 
Eyes depthless and unseeing 
Dazzling the masses with store bought beauty 
Fading behind its own glory 
Trading in my soul 
Hoping to know where you'll lead me 
Lost in this playhouse world of our new reality 
The masses are my throne 
Made up of the clones of individuality 
Knowing they think only folly 
And this is the reason robots never cry 
And if they did tears would fall
Uncared for and unclaimed upon thy ice heart 
Never hitting ground 
Now the walls are crumbling 
My hand drifts through the emptiness 
Darkness encroaching on my fear
Hating what I once thought would save me 
Your lies can no longer suffice my desire 
I see through what was seemingly solid 
Forgotten merely for a seconded 
Will I search again?
To far gone for it to matter 
Judging by the empathetic winces 
Of your jolly good old self 
Your smile it echoes in my head 
Cursed expression of false hood
Never leaving, never quieting