I feel as I have every single day,
a smile is the opposite of what's inside.
Years forever buried down under the trenches,
a bittersweet feeling with no other witness.
It's hard being broken
and thrown to the waste-side.
When I laugh, only then
is when I start to realize
the monster I've nurtured up inside.
A never-ending heap of chaos
is what I feed off of in these silent nights.
Hone all of it's skills, breathe in the grim.
A flower wilts, a storm fills to the brim.
The truth I need sounds inside your voice?
Well I wish I could hear it.
I'm so afraid because there isn't another choice.
I'm sitting idle, because there isn't a hint of trust.
Apparently a place of peace is asking way too much.
I wake in panic, can't search for escape
when my body's under pressure.
Won't survive at this rate,
I realized way too late,
there are no other measures.
There is no place of return,
no easy lessons to learn,
there is no place of peace here.
This world is destined to burn,
there's no where to turn,
we all live in fear.
How can you sleep at night,
how can you reserve the right
to judge all of my fears?
They're proven every day,
all these messages relay
that there is no hope here.
It's a pointless race, it's a stagnant face,
it's a waste of hurt, it's a flood of tears
poured out to the masses.
It's a march of maggots, it's way too tragic,
and it's as far as my eyes can see.
It's said that a march of maggots takes place in an empty city street, there nothing can be heard. These deafening screams are made in an attempt to draw attention to an issue. Which one? It will never be known, because these bodies were blind and deaf. Nothing is felt, nothing is gained. There is no love, there is no hate. When you think about it, the shrieks that are made might as well have never taken place.