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The sun dies slowly over a copse of withering trees
The fetid air wafts around in pockets of poison
The clouds above mingle into words of hate
The birds fly south to greener lands

I wish i took the left path, not the right one
I made the wrong choice, noth the right one
I guess i'll always feel stupid and useless
Because i've always been told i am worthless

I mean how many times can you be knocked down?
Before you don't want to get up
How many knifed shaped tears can be shed?
Before you want to give up

The sun explodes over a copse of charcoal stumps
The fetid mist creates a pall of poison
The clouds above throb with poisonous hate
The birds die south in similar lands
Posted: 2005-02-08 14:06:29 UTC

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