Con-quests

Sometimes knights in shiny armor are just tards in tin foil
But I don't let my blood boil, I just chalk it up
And treasures can be spoils, lows can be ups
It's a matter of perspective
Open eyes may appear shut
And the objects in the mirror may appear closer
Then disappear and become omens
Aww man! since when could I sense "over"?
How lucky.
The signs are like black clovers

Two cents and you hope that they don't mind
And a full blown piece of my mind, they might cry
Storms brew and destroy shit, so why try?
But the force of the blast is a born effort
Atom bomb to the brain leaves a scorched desert
It takes thoughts to ignite
So just forget and take flight
Free from the reigns of the pain in the past
Lose the chains and the shackles
Tomorrow you won't even care cuz you've had her