Who Said So

I stopped, critical, when it all got a little bit a odd, mythical.

I'm sitting in a wishing well, wishing excel on my mission.

Tod in my prism, God in my vision, lost in my fiction.

I've crossed some kind of threshold and my friends know that I'm in a digest mode of stress, bro.

Saliva running down my chest. So?

Messiah breathing down my neck. Whoa!

Delilah weakening my vex.

Go leaving me dead.. No!

When I'm achieving. "Who said so?"