كلمات Bird

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consuming entropy I found my place underneath the ice so cold Questioning my ambition Mindful of first impressions Withdrawn from ill intentions Aided by introspection Resorting to vices set to mold my morale Ignoring consequences that may lead to my discontent Disregarding a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