The road I travel holds too many souls,
Pain echoing from beneath the surface,
Fine lines are the cracks within our masks,
The glue that keeps it together-sheer need,
We, the numerous, did not chose this path.
It chose us.
The road I travel holds too many souls,
Pain echoing from beneath the surface,
Fine lines are the cracks within our masks,
The glue that keeps it together-sheer need,
We, the numerous, did not chose this path.
It chose us.