It took seventeen years for my dreams to fade away,
While blank walls, blanketed in hollow frames of fire,
I tic at the wink of an eye, blurry from the beer she poured
Keep these miracles; pray
For our fathers well, we tossed away our rights to break the surface
Under the red blankets of blood we keep well behind these walls,
We've blank slates of comatose hours away at the blades, and every miracle we prayed would last
So help me God the ground beneath this stone is getting softer and my view is getting smaller,
And in the small scheme of everything
I still only just got here,
Full of kerosene
Blocked off with fear
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