My faith is a test of a dream. The sick laugh was thrown in the air like the pain of red rain down your wrists, this sloped path is fast and harsh. The skin pricked gets full of deep and pure red, as pure as a young lamb. A slave to my mind and the last test of my faith is my corpse as it lay on the cold hard ground.
My mind plays with me like a child with a limp doll. I play life like a chord that’s sung off-key they say what a shame she was so close to the big time. A shame she can’t play the game. All of this is said with eyes full of thought and care as I say bye to them and hi to the dream.