Happiness. Soar with me.
Soar with me in the breeze,
Through the trees.
Along the seas.
Sadness. It follows through.
Flows through these veins
Calls you in my silenced pain.
Happiness on my razors edge.
Empty. That I am.
Discontent with what I have,
Stumbling upon my path
in a tired laugh of ashes.
Cold. Aloof like the ice.
The needles of the night,
That pierce this only vice of -
Happiness hanging onto to my razors edge
The sadness growing thread by thread
Stitching wounds from long ago
Long ago in these low of lows
Warmth. I need so dear.
It�s essence in my fears,
With its own expense unclear
And a coherent defeat of falling.
Happiness hanging onto to my razors edge
The sadness growing thread by thread
Stitching wounds from long ago
Long ago in these low of lows
Hope. An intrinsic core.
An inherent gene rotting in the raw
sewage waste of this formidable scene.
The mess of me.
Happiness hanging onto to my razors edge
The sadness growing thread by thread
Stitching wounds from long ago
Long ago in these low of lows
