No time to, register, the words you say, as I, am stepping over, you.
It's a sad, state of affairs, I don't even, pretend I'm not, aware and turned cold.
Walk away, untouched, I can't relate, to anyone.
Try to be, a humble man, a better son, a better friend, but life gets in, the way.
No time to, register, the shame I feel, as I try, not to notice you.
It's a sad state, of affairs, to ignore this wrongness, everywhere, turned cold.
Walk away, untouched, I can't relate, to anyone.
Try to be, a humble man, a better son, a better friend, but life gets in, the way.
It's the way, we silence our senses, a way, to, smother the impulse.
Suffocate the senses, suffocate the impulse, we bury pain and tramp the dirt, down.
Walk away, untouched, I can't relate, to anyone.
Try to be, a humble man, a better son, a better friend, but life gets in, the way.
Try to be, a humble man, a better son, a better friend, but life gets in, the way.

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