Never pen your dreams on me for my thoughts are embers of a once ever so bright fire.
Tatters of thought bury the recluse now they simply confide in me a lost fool who truly never gave a **** to begin with.

The fighter that's tried and worn his body broken his will the only thing left that he holds true.
When you have drown in your vices from this bottom will you emerge or simply settle for a good rest ?

past glory and worn lines my story is a cliff note to the ******* the will imagine .
Empty bottles and the scars to show the rroads end and all is left to return.
When they break you they will simply find another kid .

And life will pass you by as it has me.
Watch the patterns only to break the rules no outlaw fades easily.
And the sad old men we've become isn't a scene I care to relive much longer.

Nobody will be surprised for it been long overdue but I could never exist on another's terms.
I rather crash and burn than fade gracefully I am sorry to disappoint
but the hand was **** to begin with kids .

It's not always the way we see it but In life do we seldom write the ending.
Maybe the page understands me far better than I understand myself anymore .

Maybe.
Well when you get there as I you wont envy the others only realize the roads been paved long before your words where nothing g more than whispers .

Bury your ego for it has nothing to gain.
I view the highways end a different man than the young fool who cast his cares to the wind.

It's time to bury mine .