Broken Man
Broken Man
Let us here that song one more time,
Until the radio turns to sand,
A relic of childhood memories Always turns my way,
Only to hope to see those faces again someday,
Lost to countless number of strangers on a personal battlefield,
They wander countless number of years,
Searching for the light to drive them on out of my head,
held back by the demons i had fed
These demons only wish for my death,
So they can please the bottle that contains the faces and the names
Made Just a statistic by the sadistic,
Demons take slow control over me until these bars are broken,
A yellow moon shines one through these sobering stripes onto what remain,
Pass by me many more before I can be physically free,
To be able to break the bottle and be saved by the power above,
Looking back on the dark days of old,
I realize that the demons still have control,
I will always remember the pain I caused,
By the bottle I still hold.
tell me what you think
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not that old signature
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