Tyranny of Small Misery

The wake up means walking on the edge
Wrong decisions running through my veins
Immortal sorrow scars on my soul
Rejected and trapped in myself
Black velvet was the gift of the time
Nothing left to loose
Nothing to believe hands tied feet chained
Hiding behind shadows of anger
To wake up means walking on the edge
But I often feel that misery
Is the most important part of being happy