This innocense has been consumed by cruelty To magnify the wounds rubbed raw, and the callousing was nothing more than a distorted view of the horizon Why these doors were never knocked down is anybody's guess They were an endemic to which some had no immunity Only the detrimental memories got sewn and found root; and all that was reaped was the antipathy inside As the pretty faces were being drawn; razors carved out a grim reality across this flesh; in the hopes to bleed away the truth And as I've come to find -- the past is nothing more than a transient liquid; it saturates, then depraves the future And building character is nothing more than a euphemism for indefinite personal suffering But I'm still marking off the years until these tainted waters run dry; until this character can be forever silenced
Cycles
8:50 p.m.//09.13.04