It's what I feel Unreal, unreal
My tongue is hiding All is drunk and tired
The train of memory has since killed someone
A poor boy, almost sixteen The red hair and eyes frightened still- Now dead.
My pyre piled high with childhood foolishness Smiles and laughter Waves of despair There's so much more... can't recall
Held with an unyielding vice Haven't found the fire in mind Haven't found a reason to And funny how my hands are bitten.
Wondering if I'll ever find The definition of truth Thinking who I'll have to kill To get it this time.