Screaming through chipped teeth.
Burning through life with worn broken bones.
The dull black scuffs on my boots charred from the burning of churches and thrones.
The platform changes but the illusion stays the same.
The rules are always subjective so long as you lose the game.
The dying sound of a world turning cold
and I will not be told to suck it up and keep it in.
I've tried and failed a thousand times
to quietly dismiss their lies. No more.
I've felt the forces designed to keep us apart,
seen the hardy and strong fade away.
There's barely any time for answers at heart so stop whining about yesterday.
The platform changes but the illusion stays the same.
The rules are always subjective. You're gonna lose the game.
Ringing ears and dirt under nails.
Scattered memories of setting sails.
Broken glass in my eyes, a crack in my spine,
air in my veins and still I feel no pain.