The walls are ancient and dying of yesterday
I wallow in the decadent distaste of this mistake
I return to the throes of past glory
In the hope that I can live today

Yet

The stench of dark clouds surround me
My blood strangles my efforts to effortless
In their love
They cast me into the deepest, darkest of blackest days

I slowly trudge muddy footprints
Of those who came after and myself, before.

I look to the heavens as water spits on and from my eyes

On my knees, I am the crawling man
In this life, an imitation I find
Long for the days of wonder
But, unable to turn back
Stagger on
Searching for the green and the lights of salvation.