In the bottom do you often crave to cling
to the cliff only to temp its edge?
We change for season bask in regret.
Every dose dangles crumbles the thoughts vanishing ledge.
Chaos is home storm my welcome call home.
The sands now painted red.
Thoughts remain no matter the shore inwhich I roam.
Fight of change struggle as of life.
Dirty are the waters.
Dull as lies the mind set towards change sharp
as the knife.
The streets smell of battle with a tinge of insanity's reason.
The fools gaurd stands tall.
Stand strong without doubt within the killing season.
On thoose sand's, The innocent bleed and the selfish
ignorance of hatred always demands.
A face of many will overshadow the lies of one.
Bullets and bricks crush the same none of which
can cut to the truth as thoose fired from the minds gun.
More than a revolution of angry shouts raised in hand.
Time has become history.
My thoughts bleed now somewhere apon the sands.