A spark of sinister thought comes to mind,when I realise the time I have left to shape and refine.
It is the blood in me that craves its own submission in line, when it takes its own boiling to provide-
an ego so divine.
Is it the evils that lurk in the light, unseen dangers, past my line of sight?
Or do they even bite?
Is it just a thought, a simple wire to ignite, a flaming ball of fantasy to dilute-
An ego so bright.
Any stranger can tell you against your every trick, A tale of a gentleman with a heart worn out of skin.
Against that very notion, a motion cuts razor thin.
Could it be you? the shadow I must see, the stranger who writes sin-
An ego so bestowed without the soul to begin....
I guess I'm reluctant to say that the only way through these crossroads-
Is to play.
It is the blood in me that craves its own submission in line, when it takes its own boiling to provide-
an ego so divine.
Is it the evils that lurk in the light, unseen dangers, past my line of sight?
Or do they even bite?
Is it just a thought, a simple wire to ignite, a flaming ball of fantasy to dilute-
An ego so bright.
Any stranger can tell you against your every trick, A tale of a gentleman with a heart worn out of skin.
Against that very notion, a motion cuts razor thin.
Could it be you? the shadow I must see, the stranger who writes sin-
An ego so bestowed without the soul to begin....
I guess I'm reluctant to say that the only way through these crossroads-
Is to play.