I was arguing to save my life.
Every time when I lock eyes my body breaks,
There is never enough air in the sky,
Cones in the streets,
Protection from the sharp blades that you cut me with.
I lost the will to read. To write about the bringing of my past. I felt that for so long I've had to pick myself up from the dirt and just take a deep breath and continue running. I run as fast as I can, but every time that I reach the finish line there is always someone, something that pushes the end ten steps forward.
My back has molded to your whips of torture,
The fingers no longer type of he but of the noise that builds you...
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