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Flood

de Sátyr

My hand is dry
These cracks hold open my insides
When will I
Find a chance to question how I
Felt about that time
Running through the minefield

Resorting to vices set to mold my morale
Ignoring consequences that may lead to my discontent
Turning a blind eye to my mistakes
A cycle so mundane
Letting patterns remain unchanged

Degradation consuming entropy
I found my place underneath the ice so cold

Questioning my ambition
Mindful of first impressions
Withdrawn from ill intentions
Aided by introspection

Resorting to vices set to mold my morale
Ignoring consequences that may lead to my discontent
Disregarding a circumstance that could alter the present
A cycle so mundane
Letting patterns remain unchanged
Decay and rot
This time the source which breeds transgression and sorrow

Finally corrodes into nothing
Maybe God will give me a sign
Maybe I'm on my own
I guess I’ll know with enough time
Watching the foundation I’ve built for myself
Crumble under my feet
Leaves me wondering why
I can’t find my way back to her
I can’t find my way back to before

Resorting to vices set to mold my morale
Ignoring consequence that may lead to my discontent
Confronting a burden held for far too long
A cycle so mundane
Letting patterns remain unchanged

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