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This inherited from father's eyes, |
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Analysing closer and unmask a disguise. |
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An act of mistrust; reaction aggression. |
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These actions so small can give a lasting impression. |
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Fragile and weak; disgusting despise. |
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Wasn't ripples but it was waves in their lives. |
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The child smiles, 'cause that's all he knows, |
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But he's missed his chance and now he'll never let go. |
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A half ounce of loathing, |
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50 units of these memories. |
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With the thoughts which trickle from my mind, |
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I wash away the pain. |
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Filling the void that liquid sin, |
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But sorrows float with an evil grin. |
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Laughing at me like everything else. |
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Tear me apart just help yourself. |
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Sex always rented, a room in his head, |
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Escaping everything shut away instead |
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Of dealing with reason, and thinking tomorrow, |
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'Cause he lived for today with a future that's hollow. |
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Lasting impression, days scorn in his face, |
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A mild obsession turned to full on chase, |
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Of pieces of life that he feels like he's missed. |
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But now burning what's left, the more he persists. |
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Walking onto a stage that's empty, |
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Standing in tomorrow's shoes. |
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Oblivious before the occasion, |
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Thoughts to spare and times to lose. |
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Was it said that it could have been? |
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Trading the days just to know. |
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But it has to be too late, |
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When yesterday was years ago. |
