Do you ever tire of the endless days of stress less path ways that only lead to in·cred·u·lous stays at a perfect place
Your body is cold and brittle with beauty
A seemingly confident struggle to blossom
Faded gold is still gold
Jaded only by dust
Weighted down by lust
Created in sound that must
Parade around and rust
Your future seems bright
But don't be too sure
A lesser present is not yet out of sight