Rehashed

My head never rests on my shoulders facing the sun.

I struggle to walk.

The burden of this guilt I hide from you is growing,

You'll never know what it is.

This is the kind of person I am,

This is the kind of person I've turned into.

I time of song, I am the kamikaze dreamer.

Clog my own throat; Swallowed by color tortured sumber.

Now flying high, I am the kamikaze dreamer.

Gague out my eyes; Swallowed by color tortured slumber.

It becomes harder to breathe or think clearly.

Remorse instigates and overall of self loathing the older I get.

So I'll rest my dead beat tongue, you'll dismiss me anyway.