*Man up Jack,
Stand there bold and up front,
Knot it, knot it one last knot.
Tie that rope, of an endless shameful hope.
Don't you see Jack?
They fear this obsolescent rope,
Considering it a tragic symbole, yet you do not?
For us, it is a way to cope.
Or shall I say a way to escape?
Allas, reasoning death is barren.
It is getting tight...
Jack... Jack! You are already gone,
Breathless, souless corpse you are thereon.*
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
*Man up Jack,
Stand there bold and up front,
Knot it, knot it one last knot.
Tie that rope, of an endless shameful hope.
Don't you see Jack?
They fear this obsolescent rope,
Considering it a tragic symbole, yet you do not?
For us, it is a way to cope.
Or shall I say a way to escape?
Allas, reasoning death is barren.
It is getting tight...
Jack... Jack! You are already gone,
Breathless, souless corpse you are thereon.*
The same hope that we often beseech into living the unkown of more sufferings and miserable misfortunes, that same hope, slowly gets around our throats while we pathetically try to grap yet another last breath.
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