Text: Forfeit. Demo '07. Holding Patterns.

I'm still searching for the point where this wave's own weight
Became so great that she crashed and rolled back.
I know the end can't be assessed as of itself,
But desperate eyes see no shame in blindly seeking what they lack.

Born a blank canvas, dying a mess
A maze of twisted nerves, beneath crawling flesh
The miss-firing synapses within my brain,
Ill-tempered blood aches to burst from my veins

Self-awareness seems to be the blackest curse
And I'm hard pressed to find an affliction that's worse
Than feeling rotten within your own skin,
When we're too far gone, to feel pure again.

I give.

Lies, lies, lies.

Choked on self-pity, I've cut all my ties.
Heart and a conscience, that won't let me survive
Hanging my head, and begging for my last rights