Methods no madness, complete and absolute imperfection

My conscience keeps me conscious

Not falling in to the forbidden sleep
Tempted to reap
The sowed souls of defeat

The voices never speak

The mute baritone never atones
Begging to be stoned
Their knives are honed

A splintered edge

I listen with no intention
left with my own demonic invention
My own sacrifice's devices

The Wiser of Vice's bitter end
a crescent moon's tale of doubloons

red lace veils tattered on the battlefield
the pain those endure deserve respect and honor

yet, yet the train arrives and not one holler

pain is pain as pain is pain
we know where alive when it hits again
like coals in the train

giving fire to the sparks that beats our hearts
Maybe when we die true happiness starts

cause when were here
we are the only ones truly close to heart
with ourselves in the end
to rewind life and start some where else again

or you wake up
feel your blood move
keeping your body alive
until the next day until your light says good bye