Paper wings, cheap poems with a taste of yesterday
All that’s left of this war…of this bitterness
Scratched walls with a shade of dry of blood we’ve once tasted
With questions untold we’re so mentally wasted
No destination and a one way road,
He’d say
“There’s no such thing as home as you thought
But you’ll make it”
I’ll travel blindfolded with a Y on my forehead
You’ll hide and you’ll die ..disputes hit your face,
Shot you straight to his waist …
Throw you down to the ground till you’re done…
You’ll be breaking
I’m caught in this blast and there’s no turning back…
The skies turning black and my eyes see him fading,
He’d say
“Stop bleeding my dear,I’m like dead,my soul’s traded”
And running behind with fake tears in his eyes
“Take this map,and this heart cause yours,I did break it
There’s no turning back,but atleast you will make it”
copyright Art Damage 2006
copyright Art Damage 2006
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