Though there is a few smooth spots in the bumpy road I travel
It always comes back to the same feeling, hard, black cold
I leave worm sunny flowery fields filled with temporary joy
Then I return to reality, emptiness like a night sky lacking stars or city lights.
I search for an answer but every trail I go on leads me to the same door
Me, myself is to blame, I am the creater of my own poison
I desperately try to be the scard helpless victim in the corner
But I am just as much that as I am the man with the gun
I refuse to accept that so I give the gun to someone else
Frends, family anyone I can hurt, hate, or blame
I put them in front of the mirror that im forced to face.
But they are not evil they are worm, kind and loving
They reach out there and chase away the dark
Like the morning sun rising over the east
I am able to see the same light and feel the same womth that I once knew.
But as I return to the same grassy felds I always remember the moon never stays down
The night will come again and always will until I look at the mirror and discover the man inside