Is this what life feels like?
Silent nights, bright red tears strolling by a streetlight?
Fear colored nails
hidden in fists
ready to fight?
What a sight...what a sight indeed.
The smell of decay in newleaf,
Dead souls still dragging their feet
in sync with the star-crossed beat of misery
empty screams echoing through a deserted street of a ghost town
trapped in the masks of crying clowns
forever adding souls to their count...
What will I do when they come for me?
Flee to the taboo tree of visionary ecstasy
Dive into a sea of all seeing entities
Or fight against the horde of everlasting--

It's a sanctuary of temporary forevers and nostalgic promises
A charity snatching what we have to give.
We constantly find ourselves consumed and digested by it
Yet this is our violent addiction to ******
And I'm looking my dealer dead in His sockets asking
Can I live?