Taste of moss,
Green as if gone wrong...

Tender yet rigid is the rope which I hold...
Full of faces, dreams and places this noose I tie...

my words, are my tears
that I rather you not see...

life, francium in action
unstable to the point of disaster...

The weight of depression buries you, even when...
watching the star of your life burn in acidic...

The sand burns as they walk along
to these bastard lands, these children belong...

The burden of loneliness imprisons you
by the time you realize it wins over you...

Life blossoms and roars
as another baby is born...

The weight of this world is plenty
my will is weak...

Being a psycho
trees of black...

I'm not as happy as you think I am,
the smile you see is just a blank...

I fell to the ground
with no one else to help me back up...