This started as a bit of blast, but then again all my life seems such a blast.
I took my hand and i threw the dice, but not everything turned out nice.
My life took a turn when she had a couple of kids. It turned my whole life three sixty degrees.
She ended up committing suicide, torn in two my reality.
Trained my eyes to see no such lies. Just saw nothing but suicide.
Every heart beat was a drum of bust, turned into dreams of hope and dust.
See people through plastic eyes, they're saying nothing by lets concise.
There view points are nothing but drafts, taken into broken pleads that grasp.
Fingerless hand holds that have taken hold of a life that has sold them before there told.
Lost promises taken from them only as they start to realise
That there hopes and grasps are nothing but horrid lies.
Shadowed hopes creep around their souls, each finger grip a broken hole
If only one soul could grapple what their trying to be.