There’s no rest for the wicked,
we’re all we’ve got.
We’re staring at our lifeless bodies,
watching as our pupils burn with freckled spots.
Look at me now,
Look how far I fell.
I’ve got no room for self forgiveness.
I’ve created my own hell.
We bind our selves in wretched chains,
scarring the bodies we once called home.
And we’re racking our feeble brains
to forgive a little, remember and forget,
to find who we are,
to love just a little bit.
But there’s no rest for the wicked.
No time to dry our eyes.
Don’t you remember the web we built?
Oh how good we are at crafting lies.