All I can taste is ink, and with
A larynx full of soot, I can't
Shake the bitterness, a manifesto
Sprawled in blood, across a
Bathroom mirror
In a childhood home
The last time I ever spoke
Was the last time I could breathe
And the last words I said
Didn't mean a god damn thing
Thistles caress a beaten path
And a muted oaf carries his dead son
Onward and for
Onward and for
Onward and for
Forever