Bodies ?. Signal to receive. Blood stained hands. No eyes to see?. No one is the winner. Who is to blame. Underneath the uniform. We're all the same. .
Standing in the corner. . Ordered it's time to go. . Who has self-control?. Conflict in the making. . It may just stand for reason. Only for the soul.
This mark of impalement burned on my skin is immoral. The shackle of frailness confines one to crawl with one self. A smell of corrosion forcefully clashes within.
Breaking, all these rules you made for me. Running, through these mine fields set for me. Burning, in the fire you fueled for me. Laughing at the anger you've thrown my way.