Sometimes you want to find the end of the rope,
as fast as you can you want a new hope,
but its all slimy and runs through your hands,
and there is no water on the sea of sands.
Nobody want to end up the same,
neither your friends neither your prey,
cause they all know how it feels,
when your past is upon your heels.
Few bad steps on the wrong place,
and you can't see your own face,
every sound appears to die,
when you tell yourself the Lie.
Brain knows much and saves your life,
but with your chest it has a strife,
cause mind is made to act in present,
and what can put a giant torment,
are events throughout future, past,
and pain itself that can last,
for weeks and weeks and on and on,
and the clouds in skies that we have drawn,
will fall and break of our will,
and we will finally disappear.
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