What stands behind this tattered makeshift wall. Is a man who’s longing for release. His eyes are closed, but know his mind is open. Still longing for the courage to let go. And lay down, and play dead. Let those little voices rule your head. And one more, just one more. It’ll numb you are replace the shame. And even in my mind, I’d say seasons change, and blow away. If comfort is closure, I’m uncomfortable to say the least.
This I know, I am a product of the lack of your design. This I know, these days won’t end without a chance to make amends.
Inherent nature justifies the actions. A broken bloodline in the seas of time. A mirror image, a perfect duplicate. Still longing for the courage to let go. And lay down, and play dead. Let those little voices rule your head. And one more, just one more. It’ll numb you are replace the shame. And even in my mind, I’d say seasons change, and blow away. If comfort is closure, I’m uncomfortable to say the least.
This I know, I am a product of the lack of your design. This I know, these days won’t end without a chance to make amends.
This I know, I am a product of the lack of your design. This I know, these days won’t end without a chance to make amends.

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