Nothing much and nothing less,
delights of spirit and sins of the flesh.
It's been a while since I used this alchemy
even if I know that it doesn't work on me.

Mirrors cracked and bleeding glass,
I also wish I could just crash.
Light as feather,stiff as a knife
the reaper's wasn't home so I stole his scythe.

Could it be?
Are these the robes of misery?
Could be the curse of my kin
the proof of lost fortune flashing on the screen?

But why should I care?
World's already too unfair.
Rotting days...
stages of pain but comforting plays.

We all know when it's our time
to repeat the same rhyme
and with heavy head
go back to bed.

It's alright...
high as kite.
Waiting for the call
to let us know when and where to fall.