Welcome to the
******* asylum
Where dreams are made
Out of shards of shattered aspirations
Glued together
With outcasted tears.
She told me once
That the Golden Years
Only come to those with
Gold in their pockets.
Angels lose their wings
Within the walls.
Structurally unsound,
Shuddering with false euphora,
A tangled mess of anguish.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 8:11 PM UTC
Welcome to the
******* asylum
Where dreams are made
Out of shards of shattered aspirations
Glued together
With outcasted tears.
She told me once
That the Golden Years
Only come to those with
Gold in their pockets.
Angels lose their wings
Within the walls.
Structurally unsound,
Shuddering with false euphora,
A tangled mess of anguish.
