the day will come
the day of account
when foretime catches you up
the worst is yet to come
it is the clock of life that strikes
and it does not observe your rules
you can't avoid it, ‘cause it is your disease
getting stonger with every try to fight
puking reverse is a slow motion ma**acre
you hate your second face
to bear it's consequences
it pullulates in you
and nebulizes your wits
you are actor and observer
but don't expect an oscar
to dash her hope
and wreck her dream unsober
to swim against your lovey's stream
so hard to breach the circle
the same mistakes again
this matter is so aching
like splinters in a vain