Fiction almost always made more sense to me,
Snowflakes are the souls you'd never save,
Faith is not a habit forming vice you bet,
Luck is when you're glad it never came.
When you get tired of kicking stones,
Those broken bones will lead the way home,
So many same days,
Beginning to breathe strange,
And have you the right,
To complain at all.
Figured out there would be doubt it brought you here,
Watch the time and slowly climb the stairs,
Truth is just a word for what you want to believe,
Fact are off-white politics are gray.
Isn't love what you play for?
And don't you have all that you need?