Our mouths sewn shut; our thoughts over run. We've taken too much for granted and it’s been drawn out for too long. There's no pride left in anything we should feel proud of and we're placing too much faith in everybody else’s wrongs, but the wool’s pulled too far over our eyes to learn anything from our own. There are voices that can guide you, but your actions bare no contrast to the words we speak. Our precious time is precious life.
They’ll try to kill in your dreams, so keep me so alive that I never have to sleep. For every wrong you find in life there's always something so much worse, so take the good from bad and seek the best for everything it’s worth. Can we really put our trust in tomorrow when today feels so perfect and yesterday is an age away?
Left feeling lingually incapable of reading from the poetry with words we sculpted so beautifully, because the old life that inspired every verb has somehow run from me. Is this what you wish for, to die as a slave to a flag that made you live your life with your hands tied behind your back? It betrayed your belief and burns to embers with your grief and as the ashes blow with the wind, we're scarred by memories that they bring. We had it tough but our skin might not be quite as thick as it may seem.