To be afraid of the people who love you.
To fear receiving their anger
To be afraid of the bad decisions
Of things you can change no longer
A new feeling, a rare feeling
A lonely hole of despair
where in irony you reject its filling.
Tis in such a position I find myself,
once again hoping for the blessing of denial,
but old words of wisdom once heard,
assuade me that my day of reckoning is nigh.
"More time, more time!", cried many a tyrant
while trying to cover up his evil doing on time
but as always it soon becomes quite apparent
that the maker's benevolence will always decline
How pitiful for me then
To be a tyrant not in power but folly
as i prepare for my funeral pyre
and reflect on my life's laughable irony.
I have neither lived nor loved, nor thrown myself to destructible vice.
and yet shall be meet the punishment of those who have
The seven deadly sins were my downfall
If wishes were horses, I would kill to ride
for my wishful thinking is all i have to cling
