But our waking hours are
Nightmares
Filled with visions
We are the children
Of the past decisions
Of our parents flesh prisons
In the middle of our living
We come to know what the cost will be
Unaware if it is the end or the beginning
We wander along freely
Not knowing where we are
The world makes us pay
Bleeding
Unforgiving
We work hard not to hate
But our lives are dust
And meat
With no hope
Or legacy
