Tripping on small stones,
The path of least resistance,
The path of tangled demise,
They said I was made of monsters,
Because I hid my face from the sun

Piano keys clang like breaking swords in dissonance,
Their vibrations transcends my sleep,
I lie awake parading the past in the moonlight,
My shining armor crumbled to rust like dying kingdoms,
All the dragons chased me away,
Because my youth was spent,
I warn you,
There is no hope for a recluse

I am lost in these present landscapes,
Born from hands,
Opened above oceans,
Paint on me all these leagues,
My definitions fade among lights and machines,
The Modern Strain,
I close my eyes against it

My eyes say to you,
Behold,
A man crawling with fear,
Who smolders with anger in his bed,
And clenches his regret with fists below the smog,

I know these forms of men,
Encounter,
Unravel,
Suppress,
Reject,
Oppress,

Drown me with flowers though,
I wish not to see these shades,
Let the waters take me to my island,
Alone in my room,
Hiding like the rest of them

Just a bunch of ghosts and scabs,
Walking around,
Taped to one another

I was naked,
So I fled,
A curtain of daggers for me,
I decorated my shame,
So that your face would not see me,
Forgive me for the days,
And show me the sun,
I know the Spring will be held held between our hands,
It is freedom,
To share this thing,
You knit together my spirit again

Silence has opened it's mouth,
I unfold before it,
Strands come undone,
The story of a man gets swallowed,
The strength of my youth falls with the wind,
A veil takes the stars from me