Pure mist upon the borders of my blood stream
Bury the hollow man I am, weak
Growing old, but it will always be the same path
Loathing but still trying my best to fucking laugh
Your stains cover what's left of my sanity
Beaming but only able to feel vanity
Days spent / Months spent
Wasted by something I know won't change
Constantly reminded of the things I'll never be, and it will always remain that way
High Horse ; Up or falling down?
What's the fucking point of effort, when all is frowned upon?
Toil / Endeavors are all vain
The feel of soil
Thrown on my frame (x2)
Will bring exhilaration to my state
The fucked up part is knowing a person like you, raised a disappointment like me