Wish Me Luck
Standing in the crowd screaming, no one looks
There is no containing this inner riot
A sort of quiet desperation, a silent panic
A trip in the mind back to the beginning
Feeding on the heart, at least its remnants
Standing in the crowd screaming, no one looks
Needing something more to quail the demons
Mending broken bones with more broken bones
A sort of quiet desperation, a silent panic
Memories lost in the chaos of it all, why?
Fetch the saw to amputate the worthless limb
Standing in the crowd screaming, no one looks
Forget about the past, look toward the future
Future not visible, the past seems so inviting
A sort of quiet desperation, a silent panic
Left to rot in the choices that made this empty
Gazing at those who stood and sold themselves
Standing in the crowd screaming, no one looks
A sort of quiet desperation, a silent panic
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