Low Road

Works in ways, Strange, long days seems a short gain, Marks of stress swirl through, Painstaking waves blood-stained flash back re-occurring spells Sins embedded again and again No comprehension face sunk in, Weak responsibilities surface Darkness within chokes us again Cries of action kick you in your face Cranium swells the circumference overwhelms suffocation within Not what one thought Looking back at the end Vulnerable flesh, puked colored skin No where to run When you start at the end If ever betrayed by your own kind Near-sightedness, no respect within Not knowing ones own smell of deceit Looking not far to find what he seeks Fear of turning Tripping on your own feet No respect of space and time Hmm Fucking stuck, fucking paved your own path Fucking poor soul Floating in time on the day When you find your place in line Heartburn starts smoldering on your fines Smoldering fumes, the stench of death on your hands The belief in nothing finds the ashes to your feet Happiness of little meanings Today finds your eternal stay.