It's not the scream of the midnight train
Or the cold whisper of the autumn rain.
It's not the static of the god damned box fan
Keeping me from sleep.
It's a voice only I can hear
The voice of failure
The voice of a defeated man breathing down my neck.
And while this ghosts haunts my every move
Every step I take
I hope and pray for the day he'll let me go
And pass me by
But he's stays pearched on my back, stuck in my side
Says, "If you fail again, know it will be your last."
I cannot live like this.
"I've been the hands digging your shallow grave
Making myself at home
Spit shining your empty casket
Yet, you refuse to let me go."
You carved a hole in my head
Filled it with fear and doubt
Told me," it's for the best, one day you'll understand,"
It's not the sound of the midnight train
Or the faint screams of men like me
Giving up everything we have.
Being all we can be.
This is me. Half man half machine.
This is me. The damaged product of my mistakes.
We are the authors, the failures, the ghosts,Lost in our heads, deprived of all hope.Tangled up in bad luck,
But i wont give up.
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