Wednesday, September 14, 2011

It weighs on my soul,
It’s the musk that hangs in the air,
And slowly takes it’s toll,
It rolls in your gut and penetrates your eyes,
It creeps up your legs and swirls around your thighs,
You know what’s coming but how do you prepare?
What do you do when you can’t be there?
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men,
Couldn’t save her broken hen,
You’re scared of reality, you’re scared of the truth,
Life has a bitter way of stealing our youth,
It won’t come early, it won’t come late,
You don’t know your time,
You can’t control fate.

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