All the vibrations cause pure disruption; agony is falling to your knees against the crowd's pleas. A true fool is what is sold to these hoards, a smile is easily turned into a tool. I make reasons for my short-comings, but I preach no self-loathing. An aroma that brings a silent calm, perhaps a sweaty palm; a scent of something vanished. These roads seem so long while troubled feet march them up and down; this plan seemed so sound. Dreaming is a humans escape in this brutal age, this makes glory fade through faithless nights passing. Only sometimes do I dream of that soul ripped from my chest, this remains a heavy burden. No more shall I hide this face! I kiss the ground will deep respect! Tempting that jump is, yet life holds greater bearing. For now I walk away- down that deep hole.
Stressed Out
Forever.
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