I think Im going to take flight
Cry my self a river in which to float away
I might stop moving forward
And stand back for a while
Watch the world and its actions pass by me
Die to my dreams
And dive deep into the sea of my sorrows
For why try to fight when its a battle of tomorrows?

No need to lift heavy fingers
I will no longer bat an eye to my ideals
I will smile at the hindrance of my morals
And mock the moral fabric I was sewn with
I am a package, wrapped tightly in box form
I am idealic on the outside, a beatiful swan
But deep in me I am all tattered and tworn
I rage against the bullet that I cannot seem to dodge
And every morning I wake I can’t seem to escape this perpetual storm.