Dead In The Dirt Disease
I'll be branded as a pariah
Cast out scapegoat ripped from the wings
Cascading down in flames
To the place where limits end
Quarantined from delusions
While another regret is fat on your plate
The executioner raises his hand
And the gallows grin graces another man
Vain escape
No cure for the work week disease
One less regret
One less rope around my neck
What liberty exists in being the master
And the slave
Always against the grain
Remain outnumbered
