The sound is way too loud, my ear drums are pounding.
I am looking through a key hole and realizing that life is a cruel joke.
Misunderstood and inconsequential, the carrying forth of dares braves me unfortunate. Cold and annointed above a brave and glorious fortune. Eating the pain tears the flesh deeper and deeper, the extent of the wound cannot be seen. The magnitude of the evening, pale and grey summer day.
Lift me up to the spirit, given away in Horshoe Bay.
The strength of the skin; a bond not to be broken. The love will mean nothing, without scars. A face in a crowd tells me not to be scared, but they all know nothing, no one but the people inside my head.
There may be good left in the world, but it's covered in dread. Red locks of hair feel soft in my hands, slick shavings of solitude rest gently between her legs.
These thorns of animosity soon rise against the dead. the world will end in ashes, as soon as we are men.
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