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 silly thing it's a city 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
