This is like one of those poems where you vaguely know what it's about, but can't quite explain it. It has something to do with this feeling that love is constantly being perverted. You're constantly asking yourself what true love really is. I've been with women and I thought I found my true love and it's turned out to be the worst, most hurtful thing. You think, is that true love? I've been with woman who are completely devoted and would lie across a railroad track for me, and I think this is kind of boring. So what is true love anyway? Somehow the words and the images in "TheCameraEye" communicate that to me.