fuck face (the one at work) (you know the one)

oh dear
such a martyr
my skin bleeds
for what's fair

the blemishes of a corpse
the aftermath
of an irrational decision

but I'm still quite driven
to think that life
has given me
its all

though forgotten
it could've done more
for my art

in tune to the rhythm
that once was
i feel my ego growing

oh, such a delicate stroke
imploring me
to come back again

face fear
and hope that fear
is within its rights
to let the courage win

i know whats fair
ive lived seen
and been touched
by the hands of god

the bitter irony
about the death
is im not depressed

i had a start
that went well
when i turned 13 i entered hell
at 17 i began to see myself
a risen god

so go on martyrs
priests and artists
I've said enough
I will welcome
a present breeze
when things get tough
of me, a diamond you'll have but a shard
and you'll die and see that it for me
was not that hard