THE ATTACK

 

Accusition, ammunition, the throttle that reveals the heart.

Excuses, denials, the force that pumps the change and delays the start.

It’s the rowdy roundup that echoes goodbye to the pure, good, and lovely

And the heart pounding, mind racing welcome to your self- acclaimed high and mighty

The door to life has been closed, sealed and painted black,

It blends in with the world, guess you don’t know you’re under attack.

So scramble for those seeds of the earth, the smoke of the soul, and the drops of addiction

You will settle for the lost and think you’re found, for lies will be your conviction

Laugh and play, pretend you’re okay,

“Finally I’m free, that’s what you say.”

Cry and weep, into the shadows of the deep,

Numb away the pride, the pain, and even the control.

But hey, who needs control?

Perhaps Lord it’s time to come back into my soul.

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