Birthing PainsRetrieval and denial twisted buried hate
Codependency is real, altered state
Nonexistent in the realm of fearful feelings thought
Understand the guilty hand brings forth only what it bought
Reasons given, reasons seen
The hand that holds the cradles' mean
Unforgiven, unforgotten
Remembered only in evil often
17 years of hypocrisy ruled
The sides within this body dueled
What is trained now rearranged
28 only slightly less strange
Whatever was now is not
Realize
Brutalize
It's all I've got.
Creation by mother/father defiled
The existence of a son a lot less wise
Than God above in hypocritical love
Left the boy, killed the dove
So I spend my time remembering
When I wasn't so cold, not quite so bold
A taste of painful trainquility
A hint of brilliant intensity
Walk by the Son of Silence and watch her burn
What the parents forgot the innocent learn
Love has an equal and opposite design
Forgotten in memories of a pain less fine
Hatred burns and motivates the cruel
As the unwary serve a purpose for you
They are fodder
And I am hungry
In this uneven ground of remorse and revenge
I look to the enemy and speak softly, "Say when"
Too much lost too quickly too often
To walk so softly in this land of forgotten
So browbeat the point hatred sings to forgive
Let lessers and equals forget how to live
When the lessons learned are a little less interesting
I still fight for the right to be consistently resisting
Unlike the creatures of lax and folly
A knife edge glint tells me "Hello Dolly"
And so few are numbered 777
Even less the four in Apocalypse' heaven
Ride upon the Sons of Vengeance
A new bane of violent silence
Let us pray
let us pray
The Reaper is merciful, kind and loving
But the past of this boy is harsh and unforgiving
What was known never hurts others to behold
A knife in the cradle to crack the mold
Leaves
A torn conscience and being living
A belief that pain is in the giving
Not too far from reason's call
The feral grin against the wall
A man boy child of animalistic fate
Bred on imperfection, fed on hate.
Reasons given, reasons seen
The hand that held the cradles' mean
Pain left open wounded and refined
The hand that rocks the world is mine.