by Jesse White
They claim to know my pain,
but still admire my shame.
Bullets in the brain
take it all away,
but I cant, it wont happen.
My fingers start slipping,
I'm losing my grip
I'm losing my cure.
My eyes arent pure anymore.
Whats this all for,
feels like I'm going to war
without a sword and shield.
Looking around
finding that this field goes on,
suddenly it turns ablaze;
see my life through this haze.
Hearing the voices I must be a crazed man.
Under this weight I cant stand,
dropping to the floor.
Here I stay, still remaining somehow.
It's the here and now,
where all my sins came around to me.
Shooting from the ground
I watch the black plant grow.
Welcome to this scripted show,
I'll build a ladder to try to steal
the stars from the sky.
But God will cut 'em down,
these plants and ladders,
falling down forever.
Never will I know
the end of this scripted show.
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