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Black Market Aftermath
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Consequences
Consequences dry my
faith
that what I need is
what I want?
How we dream and how we dare
to walk the road with no one's load
hanging our thoughts
troubling our way home?
The years they rush and we complain
to stop the time we need to snatch
and breathe in now
what we'd bring to grave
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And yet I see disgrace
to think of me as one, who strays...
with no bonds here to stay
with no bonds here to stay…
Consequences guide my
thoughts
that what I want is walk the road
within someone's thoughts
soothing my back home.
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