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A Life of Paint and Dreams
We're all the same
Never do we change
We're always what they seem to think
I was born to wait for death
We heed to him
We're never what we think
Just dream conductions
A life that only changes with the winds
The winds of your dream's cool ether air
We're never who we seem to idolize
Just pigments of paint
Dabs of short leashed ideas
Why not skip a road or two
A life less traveled, if I'm dead soon
Nothing seems to feel any feeling
Such a suicide, within my head
Such a plot, to change the twisted corner
Two or frow, both one, too slow
Never to kiss a bitter-coated past
Never to reach for a pondering future
