Frail are the hearts of men who connive
Weak, the ones who strive to satisfy
Frowned upon those that sacrifice
What really lies beneath those eyes?
Infatuated, raised above the heights
Brought to contemplate, all in guise
Unassuming pain to love, suffice not
Fight to hide the lovely tears in the camouflage rain
So dry but dazed, those eyes
On fire, consumed by desire
Grown out, afraid to confide
Laid down, so forgone, so cold
Flies are gathered feeding on your curtsies of avarice
Beneath the surface ties
Mock the frailty, guns and flowers, I know of irony
Mock the camouflage rain

INVIA LE CORREZIONI