In your deaths I see mine,
My resolve erode under that hand
We know too well
That comes when our back is turned
And "They're doing so well"
Is the phrase of the day
And pushes your face into the cold
Hard dirt where no one
Can survive.
Why do they take us? And am I
Next because I am tired
Of running so hard
In the right direction, I am
Afraid I'll find
It's off a rooftop
Six feet into the ground.
No comments:
Post a Comment