The end looks promising
Paranoia leaves footprints
In the sand, the minds of those I touch
I walk and I leave my image
Painted on the hearts of many
It's a hard job to have
An/ I've grown weary of showing up
For the last three years.
I could use a catastrophe to bring me
A sort of calm that you only find
Looking at the sun set on Wilson Dr.
To be honest
I am afraid to part with that which has given me
Great security and great comfort
I have tried before, and the world was desolate
Empty, and i felt naked.
My feelings on display for all to see
So I am back where i started
In the midst of an age-old conflict
Die to live, or live to die?
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