There was a small cry in defense once,
Now all that makes me a man is silent.
At least we know when we’ve lived
That we’ve lived long enough to die.
I prayed my lungs would blacken
So the coughing seemed justified
But the winter months kept coming
As my craving and smoking subsided.
There was a tremble in my fingers once,
The sliding wire against my skin
That made my fingers harden.
I believed in making music once
Now I just believe in trying.
