Surrender

The hearts of men
are easily tainted by secrets
and our blood will run with poison
for as long as we keep it

the pain will grow
the pressure will rise
the longer we see ourselves
with shielded eyes

a fun house mirror
a self image false
minipulating the world
with silver tongued talk

we give ourselves the illusion of control
but we're not much more than a walking disaster
when our silver tongues get heavy
when we get plastered

we'll deny the mess
or cover it up
make deals with god
as we give the toilet a hug

but sooner or later the shovel gets heavy
and you drop to exclaim " i made it! bottom!"
now god
please help me bury the bottle

i give up, im tired
take the wheel
show me the way and your will
and lower my shield