I see the hurt when I look into your eyes, how you struggle to hold it and keep it bundled inside, it drives a dull blade deep in my heart it makes me wanna cry, so I offer you a hand to help you wash away the rainy skies
—  Eyedea (here for you)
See, a lot of the time, humans as artists exist in a self-projected state of falsehood. We’re either too close to our image to be objective in our perception, or too far to be subjective in any manner. This only widens the void in social conformity introduced to our souls at birth, and so I write. I don’t write without the intention of objectivity, or attention of the image, but only as an omni-directional bridge between the several, flowing, tunnel-structured realities present in comparable space and time.
—  Eyedea