Cruelty starts whenever I dress in passion
There is an army of strangers behind my back
Too many lives are taken in fragile fashion

Seven escapes each for a solid reason
Realization of timing won"t last me a day
Too many innocent arms are building my prison

I follow the lead of this age acting so foolish
Forbidden fruits are in season wormy and ripe
Too many arts evolved in a need to vanish

Packing a suitcase might be as hard as carrying
There is a handful of secrets bellow my ground
So many useless thoughts in a single saying