it feels like you’re carrying the weight of the world
on your shoulders
and punishing yourself for some ancient acts.
too afraid to confront the reality,
too afraid to make a move.
you have to close up this circle
and have a fresh new start,
a new beginning to rise up
and take control of your surroundings
no sleep, no laughter, it haunts you day and night
nothing to satisfy and water the flower you really are.
the path ire that wore you will swallow you whole.
(ridiculous drunken joy)
nothing left behind, no mourning for the child of no one.
we are the architects of our broken mirrors.
why can’t we be our own heroes
until our days are over?
(the heroes we could not be)
(‘cos the end is already f*cking here)