A vague souvenir of love lost. A name. A pang of disappointment mingled with delusion and dreams to taunt an iron nerve. Nothing is real when it all feels so very real. The faces switch, attitudes shake the foundations of sanity and you know you are in for one hell of a ride. At first you're lost trying to find the beginning only to dwindle deeper when trying to make it all end.
Then out of the past come those who sowed the seed. Their mere presence is an outrage. They're there to help. They're there to help you go deeper. Savour the pain once more as they pull you back in to their trap. A home built on disloyalty and lies. The cheating rogues dug deep to con their way in to the community. Selling out family and friends to fuel their greed. One will talk of honour while the other empties your pockets. Ready to charge you for ever single nail they'll hammer in to your coffin. A lesson of generosity can be learned from their avarice but you'll always wonder how good they'd be at dodging a bullet.
Only time can piece the soul back together. The mind games, the head trips seem to mellow from force of habit. The skin hardens and as you pull yourself out from the rubble you realise you just don't give a shit any more. You can tread on broken dreams and accept that what you wished for just isn't going to happen. Those trips to headstones no longer make you feel loss but remind you of what is left. The fallen stay in your heart as you keep a keen eye on the living and remember to breathe. Breathe to be ready, breathe because that is what you are designed to do.
Then out of the past come those who sowed the seed. Their mere presence is an outrage. They're there to help. They're there to help you go deeper. Savour the pain once more as they pull you back in to their trap. A home built on disloyalty and lies. The cheating rogues dug deep to con their way in to the community. Selling out family and friends to fuel their greed. One will talk of honour while the other empties your pockets. Ready to charge you for ever single nail they'll hammer in to your coffin. A lesson of generosity can be learned from their avarice but you'll always wonder how good they'd be at dodging a bullet.
Only time can piece the soul back together. The mind games, the head trips seem to mellow from force of habit. The skin hardens and as you pull yourself out from the rubble you realise you just don't give a shit any more. You can tread on broken dreams and accept that what you wished for just isn't going to happen. Those trips to headstones no longer make you feel loss but remind you of what is left. The fallen stay in your heart as you keep a keen eye on the living and remember to breathe. Breathe to be ready, breathe because that is what you are designed to do.
