The night it began, the moon was blood red.
That night just one question, ran through my head.
Is life what it appears to be?
Or has imagination bested me.
Lightning flashes, thunder booms.
Pain shoots through me as i heal my wounds.
I stand tall, nothing to be lost. Nothing at all.
I fear pride, And despise my own being.
Theres more to this life than just hearing and seeing.
If I am what I am, then am I a beast.
No, I can't be. Not at the least.
To stand on two legs means more than just man.
It means best hunter. top line.
A life that is fine.
The blood moon shows me what I don't own.
The freedom of an animal, skin to bone.
Instead I stay in a transe, a mind eating transe.
The night it began The moon was blood red.
No worries to me, now i am dead.
Free from my transe, the transe of a life.
I'm free from my transe, freed by a knife.
