Joy comes in the morning...
Or joy comes in the mourning?
While I'm drunk with my tears
Masking my candid fears.
Miles, I run never stopping
Asking none ever hoping.
Boy oh Boy, it's my story
Basking in misery.

As it is I barely sleep. (Weeping!!)
But staying awake weeping only to fall into a tortured sleep
I face it beyond control.
Sleeping is better than weeping and keeping dead memories.

But to me weeping is better than sleeping.
As soon as I slumber I start dreaming.
Let me not say the dream
It's my mine and mine alone.
When it'll be known.
I'll be long gone.
At least that's all I'm told
That I will not hold
On to this fading life till I'm old
Enough to make sense of it all.
My life will be short
And my sorrow so tall.
I think curled up in a ball.
Their arrows poisonous.

I fold myself
In case I start shaking more than I can bear.
I hold myself
My face to the ground knowing it's here.
I told myself
Embrace this, you are overcoming fear.
Mold yourself, I said.
Greatness is becoming what they revere.

Sell your soul and have lies to tell.
Hell awaits such who paly with those who fell.
Well, you can be washed in the Well of blood and be well.