From the recording Grave Intentions
Abort your social mission.
Admit that you’re not smart enough to know your own position.
Allow yourself to breathe.
Attempt to live a little.
Assume that you’re too dumb to know this dust will never settle.
Apologize. Move on.
Escape this modern drama.
Appreciate, evaluate, and wait for modest trauma.
Apocalypse is ‘round the corner but we’re busy mourning corpses of our former selves.
It sells itself.
For every summer of blood
there’s a winter to bleed you dry.
For every a valley that floods
there’s a mountain too high to climb.
For every desert there’s death.
For every city there’s writing on
the proverbial walls that'll fail to be seen.
Why am I always bleating like a goat in heat?
Why do I always beat dead horses for a ride?
Is it because I never I lived my life the way you wanted me to?
Is it because I’m not afraid to leave the trees for the street less taken?
The way the world's right now I think I'd rather die then take your advice and try to make it in my own.