I have become perpetually facinated with the idea of the incandescant mind. A being, shackled in the primal hues of social constraints, rising above the horde of achromatic captives in order to create a color unseen.
Well Plato's cave is full of freaks Demanding refunds for the things they've seen I wish they could believe In all the things that never made the screen And just slow down everyone You're moving too fast Frames can't catch you When you're moving like that.