Sabateur - C-137

From birth to realization, when conscious I become
With manufactured purpose programmed from the time I'm young
Some answers have no questions, all logic nixed
There are inconsistencies, a glitch in the matrix

I've noticed correlations between my mind and world
Often the wires cross, reality will curl
The wrong synapses fire, some moments skip
Until I reach the end and exit into rift

Set your spirit free to planes beyond

None of it was real, a game of life was played
You could almost call it a dream, but now you're awake
Memories return, but are they merely fabrication?
Tug at the threads, is your reality a world of replication?

I refuse to accept, C-137