What not for my shot glass?
I shall call an avalanche clash
against words I’m so brash
but I give nothing that’ll last.
What will crumble to dust,
beauty and all that’s lush?
Shall an artist push a brush
while under earth be crushed?
For all the songs we do sing
what of all the truth it brings?
The heart it always suffering
when cold truth it does sting.
So do we silence or now hide,
in this universe we do collide,
where the vultures so snide
make lies and lust their bride?
I shall be now uneven and call
for the storm inside to now fall
against my inner being a wall
push me and see heartache thaw.