Post Traumatic Death -

An allegiance of forces, disgusted at the pace of life that we’ve been racing

I think the problem here is our backs turned no facing, turned not facing

Spit those pills out of your mouth, man over machine

Don’t make your enemy your mind

Question relying on internal insecurities

They, will, make, you

The spotlight of your own silent circus

Quiet circus

My own just splashed everywhere like spilled milk

Someone please don’t cry over it

Unwanted snow sticks with you wherever you go, never melting

This is a call of the utmost importances

The power of the punch is on your side

This is a war cry felt with a sour does of salt rubbed in your eye