| I'm vessled in the Wound, twisted in the Devils womb. I was conveived through Violence, and acted out as a supieror presence. I'm folding my Hand, I'll wait until we deal again. Then I'll feel the time is right to stand and lay down my Hand, see what you got, and say..I'll stand. The poker game of Life, My hand will cut you like a Knife, you'll never see it coming.. Never. When ever I'm alone inside of the Broken stones, walking the distant halls of the Image, called shadow mist, Its like the Maze inside the Winding mind isn't just tied to the Poles outside the gate, but the much hated state is actually free. Chaos, a way. Anarchy. Freedom, choose your choices, make your mistakes, its the part of life thats yours to take.. The whims of loss are cunning, I'm faultering into the Night she came home, and the Night the gun was pressed to the temple, oh how sweet it was to see the death of a Pupil. My teachers never said a Word. Again and again, these images ring out inside my head, like hells bell. Oh well, nothing we can do, say it for you. Let me live on through. |
