Imgormiel
Part of the furniture
- Joined
- Apr 18, 2004
- Messages
- 4,372
Futile
A scar on your face.
Just another...memory gone.
The memory of hate.
There is a place in a trailblazer’s sun.
Follow the track. Follow it in name and soul.
The place where everyone else left to go.
Futile, everyone is dead.
Puerile. I am miles ahead.
Live life backwards.
Foreseen is always the absurd.
And.
As time grows, we become once again, among them.
There is a star – a piece of fate.
An ignorance of us.
A silent crack in yourself.
I can see only the path of mayhem that drives from it.
A cannon loose aimed recklessly at the sky.
You fire wilfully at targets unseen.
Futile, danger ahead.
Puerile, you are just a shell.
Futile, now you are dead to me.
Servile, the persecution of me just a lie in their heads.
Pay a penny, help me live for many a day.
The air here is still free.
Overtake, overtone.
Let it serve the meek instead of the strong.
Just pay the goddamned penny...
It is...futile, danger ahead.
Servile, they are all dead in the head.
Puerile, I am not myself.
Futile, everyone to me is dead.
Puerile, wish I was miles away.
And as time grows.
We become among them.
And as time goes on.
We become among them.