A mislaid sense of self
Deficient in a purpose
A victim whose hurt is endogenous to the surface
Culminating to profound death inside
That child is all of us
We subsist through this
Empty casings
We freeze
No hope for warmth in this life
Winter came
And we didn't notice it
We are degraded
Through our eyes
We can't help you
Say the wise
When can I be
Everything that I'm supposed to be?
At the end of my last day
Cold covers forlornness inwardly
Desolate winter claims me
Look therein
My worth debilitated
Look outside
The world spins with out me
Now the lie reveals its lubricious hide
Now the lie reveals its lubricious hide
Never have I
Dreamt of those paintings
Only saw
I stand at the gates and cry