Tuesday, July 13, 2004

Quarter-life crisis (continues.. )

Once I looked up, I saw the sun,
Brave would've faced it, I could only run.
Gifted with a dream, little did I care
And spilled everything, my hands lay bare
I think of ruin, I think of plunder
When will I realize, it is a blunder
They talk of phoenix, people of old lore
Its rising from ashes, not the burning before

It still does

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