i think my eyes are broken
for they do not glisten as they should
as my faith falls away, in crimson beads
to feed my broken earth
so many judgements passed upon me
i fed them all their lines
we're all just puppets, in this satire
but who's operating the strings?
does my skin tell you a story?
does my slanted smile tell you a lie?
do my trembling hands and
(
Read more... )