Friction inborn underneath my skin. In some golden pool that calls your name, it breeds. I need no false idol, priest, or Dalai Lama to tell me what grows in its depths. Caught on a blade it shatters stone and cuts ice from my veins. Such a strange sense of un-ease, this Déjà vu. Here where joy purges darkness under golden waves. All these lives playing keep away from the sun, shunning the truth. So long I slept, stripped of the light. Afraid of drowning in this sweet abyss. Now I see it rules my cells, my brain, my heart.