Aking Fork In The Road
Keeping our wits about us
our fists are powerless
leaving nothing behind us
it seems we're just not that important
maybe in our minds
but a healthy mind is hard to find
everyone is leaving with cuts on their hands
and scars on their arms
and dreams on their stereos
in sleep-deprived plans
we burn bushes at this
fork in the road
and I, I have a knife
in my pocket
a fest for the wasted
we're sticking our tongues in broken wall sockets
a rush of gold to the head
and now this head has got a hole in it
guess I'm just open-minded
it's a city thing
it's a silly thing
cast a cold eye
you don't give a shit, so why do I?
Putting all pleasantries aside
our dreams have died
in mass graves they're turning
waiting to be revived
pearls devoured by swine
in sleep-deprived plans
we burn bushes
at this fork in the road
