Superstition Aimed At One's Skull

Sentenced to this lifelong sequence of watching your back

A second guess

Sink into the feeding of essence to the vultures of another yesterday

Save us from indolence, save us from this fate

A black cat tradition damned to the genetics of our parents' ways

Half dead, on your way out

Sent back to these days of heresy

Look at these things that they've tried to do to me

Every supple opinion counts

Roll her over when you're done

Son, don't let them see when you reach for the gun

Turning backs on father time

A problem with consistent faith

Never to count for your prayers

Attributed to these backward ways

A desire that has lost the edge

The solution to the end of our kind

Painted into that corner of the mind

Smoking gun theory put to the test

Prophecies that will seal this final guess

The only battle faced is accepting fate

Nevertheless a final trait

Only hoping to have been on the winning end of the wishbone again

Disgruntled attitudes adored

Affliction of the victim clause

Never listen to your own advice

Back to those days of negligence

Time to clear the shame from your face and call it a day

Wipe the blame from your lips and crawl back to your demeaning ways

An adult crusade against the ways they acted when they were young

Feeling sore from this lack of respect

As your soul is waged for a final bet

Will you take that plaque from earlier goals that you have achieved

And place it on the dashboard of that wrecked high school dream?

Empty-handed in the peak of deception

Hating the exact things we do ourselves

Cited for these words of the last regard

The depraved have let their ideas out again.