A peace absorbed by a ritual of scars
And too many caskets.
Spread across my knuckles like tiny pin pricks,
Splintered bone, shattered pride;
I mask it.
Midnight bashes as grinding metal thrashes,
Here we get our kicks.
Silence and words don't mix too well,
Here in broken homes.
Yet the fist and stone, they cut to the bone.
Burst lip, cracked knee,
A reflection in the mirror,
Fuck, whats happening to me?
I know that I've tasted all this shit,
I've bled and worse,
Cried in this pit.
But let me tell you first,
I'll quench my thirst,
With every word.
And I know this sounds absurd,
But I'll pick up my guitar and play you a verse,
Of the past I wish I could reverse. |
