The future has seen better days.
Always, closed doors.
Open old sores.
Makeshift Holy Ghost,
But I need more.
It's fair enough to say that I am never walking back.
Never going out.
Never shaking hands with lifelessness.
But I walk alone with you by my side.
You've given me a thousand tries.
Half life and it's half used.
Slant rhymes and I might be the only one left.
I found you in the fire but you claimed that it kept you warm.
My whole though process is nothing more than what I say.
I never understand the synchronization of a water down revolution.
The death of a son.
The death of a salesmen, the anointed one.
So what is there left to say?
Everyone's given up but
I was born on a different day and
I drink from a different cup.