You can pray. It seems I’m losing my way. I feel I’m falling apart at a seam with no start and hopes fading away. Won’t be the last time. You say… Well, you say… That I breath lies, I spit fire and ice to make up for the words I won’t say. I’m living out of fear…
Run out of life… You know I owe, I owe you more than some water, a touch or a sequence of lust, babe. I owe a place to call home. Cut and tie. I think I’ve lost some life. I know I’ve fallen short, on a couch with some whore. I think I’ve let you down, let that flag hit the ground… Well, should I burn it now?!
Pray. You should pray. Don’t think it matters a bit who’s bed you were staining when I was away. I’m tired, I think I’m sleeping. Retired. It’s not worth keeping. Yea…