here I am again
titanic in
proportion sinking like
stone I've been on a death trip for a month
a month of bloody tears stinging my eyes
a month of hallucinatory monsters
who want to suck me dry and that’s a
rough ride for a man in my
condition I've been
rendered meat hung up on butcher's hooks
and pounded into pulp
slaughtered by my memories
I can’t escape my
memories I’m shackled by the
past
No comments:
Post a Comment