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King Nip

de Grindstone

Child on the 'scene', struggling reality
Scars buried deep, spoke silently.
Feed my disease; resist the need respectively.
Built gradually, constantly.
Reflections turning gray, thoughts once seen now start to fade.
Promises made, now left to break.
Reduction left to cope. Intensified; try to minimize
Votive eyes shine hope; I'm trapped, I'm helpless

Tears of regret; my soul is spent.
Shall I forget?
Child on his knees; desperate cries but no one sees.
Strung out on the streets, only seventeen.
Used to never need; just a child on the 'scene'
I always did believe I could set it free.

Tears of regret; my soul is spent.
Shall I forget?

Scraping; struggling, I reach towards a helping hand.
Sanction; I try to grasp again.
Haunting; familiar voices beckon me.
"Set me free!"

by ursão#

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