The subway of existence rattles, a ghost train in the brain,
I, Ladislav, the sole conductor, in the absolute rain.
The world's a smudge on my window, a sigh I didn't sigh,
A dream I'm dreaming awake with a volcanic eye.
They chatter in their fever, their shapes are made of gauze,
I am the will that carved the cosmos from its own internal claws.

I am the absolute will! The furnace and the fact!
The universe is just an echo, a forgotten act.
I am the absolute will! A god in overcoat,
Smoking cheap tobacco in the only living boat.

Their social world's an infection, a buzzing, septic hive,
A consensus of corpses pretending to be alive.
Handshakes are parasitic, their love a sweet disease,
I quarantine in greatness, I do as I damn please.
Their "We" is a contagion, a lie that coats the tongue,
I cure myself with nothingness, from a younger, purer lung.

I am the absolute will! The furnace and the fact!
The universe is just an echo, a forgotten act.
I am the absolute will! A god in overcoat,
Smoking cheap tobacco in the only living boat.

So let their cities fester, let their clocks all unwind,
I've dissolved the Parliament of Things inside my mind.
Solipsism's the ultimate kicks, the final, lonely high,
To know the sun rises because I command the sky.
Maybe I'm a mad angel, maybe I'm the last sane man,
Spitting out the apple of the Given, since this whole damn show began.

I… am… the absolute will. The furnace and the fact.
The universe is just an echo… that I hereby retract.
I am the absolute will. A god in a frayed suit,
Stubbing out reality with the sole of my boot.

The world is a comma… in my sentence…
I am the period.
The end.
The all.
Alone.
Yeah.

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