Oct 06, 2005 15:43
Once again ripped at the seams,
and sometimes I feel my dreams are nothing but where I go at night,
But what about the things that just feel right?
I'm not one to give-up without a syncopated fight,
My sight and reality sometimes leads me to think "what am I even fighting for?"
The answers in my heart, this life can be anything you make and so much more,
and this drained dreamer is looking to break an entering on locked doors.
I pour myself onto pages and unwind myself on well lit stages and until I stop seeing contentment and love in faces I'll know I'm not running but flying in the human races.
These perscription braces won't daze and devour what can and has and will be held,
And although it takes flames and a steady hand,
My iron heart, once broken, will weld back together,
From my anniversary of year I'm still living in November,
Until the rest of my life where I will find something better then throwing in the towel.
The foul fowels have a tendency to cluck "bucks" and pull out the moving trucks,
But I have something that I was born with better then luck,
Knowing I'm neither souless or heartless, and those things can never be plucked.
So if you ever feel like your fucked remember how mud, sand, and muck feels great when it's rubbed all over you body,
and I'll get dirty as much as i want, no one, unless I want to, can stop me.