Lines entangled, ambitions whispered through the corridors of dreams.
Numbers don't lie, but the patterns tell stories that honesty forgets.
Your chart, my chart, the world's uncharted seas.
The grey fog descends, obscuring landscapes once vivid.
Reflections in puddles, echoes of voices that could've been.
Onward, the directionless travelers chart unseen paths.
Beneath the surface, currents of mellow nostalgia.
Pencil graphs, tracing intangible feelings with graphite precision.
Embrace the chaos, for it makes sense in the metaphors we conjure.