I pace myself whilst walking with the ghosts of a tainted past,
On roads of lies and broken promises, paved with an intent of malice.
Next to the roads, flowers of hatred blossom, they're surrounded by vines that consume and constrict,
These are each home to countless thorns that all hold a poisonous touch,
The pain's enough to drive a man mad, so why do I beg for more?
The further I walk, the more I find my judgement's being clouded,
I feel as if I'm a marionette, being made to dance,
Somebody's controlling my every move, choice is no longer an option,
This feeling, it's confusing, a mixture of excitement and dread,
I don't want to stop, or carry on, I want another option instead.