The Eyes of Woe

I have stumbled blindly out of phase,  
consume a dwindling number of remaining days.  
Groping in a convoluted maze,  
brimming with a fuel your light has set ablaze.  
You're...  
 
woven into the tapestry of me.  
I can carry it, like a truth can set you free,  
but it seems so contrary to the consequence I see.  
I can bury it, so you and yours can finally bury me.  
 
 
Out of nowhere, you have come;  
Into the same, I go.  
Who can cohere what I've undone?  
These are the eyes of woe.  
 
 
Purposely, my focus now is turned,  
but a million sounds and images on my self are daily burned,  
and there are hours of the day when I am largely unconcerned,  
but other ones, I'm crippled by the weight of stones I've turned.  
I'm...  
 
all tangled now.  A wicked web we weave.  
I'm all mangled now, and you can take, or you can leave,  
'cause there's a better part of me, to which I slowly learn to cleave,  
and another one I can't allow, and won't allow to breathe.  
 
 
Out of nowhere, you have come;  
Into the same, I go.  
Who can cohere what I've become?  
These are the eyes of woe.  
Yours are the eyes of woe.  
 
 
Out of nowhere, you have come,
and over the edge, I go.  
Who can cohere what we've undone?  
These are the eyes of woe.  
 
These are the eyes of woe.  
Yours are the eyes of woe.  
These are the eyes that know,  
yours are the eyes of woe.