I wish I was born without a title
Why is identification so vital?
Bearing the name of the ones who bore me
Expected to become who existed before me
Now when I walk they expect to see…

If the walls had ears… what would they hear?
Would they sustain their stance… or collapse in fear?
Would they hear what is just… and morally correct?

I see no peace… I don’t even know peace
It rests somewhere in the dark… where we can’t reach
Victory comes to those who cease to retreat
The sound of war and revenge is so sweet

We say we need you… but our eyes are closed
We imagine you… when we peel petals on a rose
We say we desire you… but whenever you arrive
We never seek closure… we write you off as a lie

He travels through life unseen… invisible
Because when they are pessimistic… he too is cynical
When they are at ease… he too is serene
When everybody prays… he falls to his knees

Her eyes glow green… green with beauty
They gaze at mine… deception is their duty
The hue of her eyes could replace the sun
Little did I know… what she had become

What happens to a moment… that is not seized?
Does it still have life? Do its lungs still breathe?
Will it one day rise to the eyes of the masses?
Or will it simply evoke regrets as it passes?

I hear the voices sing… no faces are seen
I assumed the expressions were peaceful and serene
As I walk the rough streets in my tattered jeans
They seem to have no desire to greet the fiend

As the river flows… life goes on
In the midst of the rain that falls from the storm
Sometimes it flows swift… at times it is slow
The creatures of the sea still exist below

She stares with both eyes into the face of deception
The alarms never warned of her false protection
The gates to her heart have begun to sever
He walked the corridor as he pulled the lever

Something is wrong… nothing is real
The truth is locked away… love concealed
I keep seeing visions… visions in my head
Seeing myself in third person… seeing myself dead

She goes through life fearless… not afraid to die
Because nobody seems to make it out alive
24 more hours… it’s almost surreal
24 more hours… her bones revealed

The agony… pain… anguish and distress
Why must supremacy viewpoints regress?
Ignorance is blissful… when you reign supreme
Ignorance is blissful… for supremacist means

I’m addicted… addicted to the touch
Addicted… I can’t get enough
Addicted… but the desire is lust
The man in the mirror is hard to trust
Every time we greet… I show disdain

I loved her touch… I never let go
She helped me sustain… helped me grow
Gave me sight… amidst the dark
I felt we could never… ever grow apart