I see a soft man stuck in a dull life.
Cutting down scenery just cause it feels right.
Is it the fear or the history contained

Or the doomsday hard on that won't go away
To watch all the others in flames
That keeps you stuck in one place.

That's the proof that roots get rotten
They dry up they die up a dead tumble weed


Gone and forgotten while your stuck holding the reigns.
They crystal ball's blurry and showing its age.
The seance is set the bricks are all laid the piss and the poison

Pour out of the page
Too wrapped up in rapture to wrap your head around the decay.