I once heard a man say “tomorrow is not your friend”
As smoke swirled around the room I pondered what that meant.
You must live every day as if it’s your last
Dwell not on the past
There are days when melancholy strikes like an assigns from the shadows
My heart grows darkness inside golden meadows
A tainted soul locked in an internal war
As dawn breaks my eyes feel heavy.
The bags under them dark like pools of oil.
We have come to another tipping point
Rally I must to turn the tide
For the soldiers in the golden side.
I’ll live to fight tomorrow.