Vagabond

[Chorus]
Changes of the ephemeral
A diamond to an emerald
Karma chains thoughts arrange
On a coming train to sever you
Ricochet contemplate
Holding pain at a level, you ascend the clouds
Murder and destroying down the pinnacle

[Verse 1]
Emotional attachment is the first reaction to passion
So [?] and profane
Wooden bullets and vampires destroying the king
Merchants, serf, knights and squires
Because this kingdom of delusion has become dusty and tired
Bum rush the gates, murder the past with wires
Walls are only made by the deranged to suppress their inner fire
Have mercy on me God
I'm a dropout and inquiring interest to heaven's statistic
To lessen the level of admiring angels who only sit, praise with no mind on their shoulders
Because I'd rather burn in hell than become another slave in the robust
Group of pseudo individual, false intellectuals
Going gay for a gun shot, tragic leaving a neck wound
Than to stay alive in a straight line
I'm a sick fool, perpetuals
And I'm no different conforming to the norm of the wicked
Becoming a part of the sickly distraughted tarnished persistence
My strong point of resistance is a decision to eradicate any hope in my existence

[Chorus]
Changes of the ephemeral
A diamond to an emerald
Karma chains thoughts arrange
On a coming train to sever you
Ricochet contemplate
Holding pain at a level, you
Ascend the clouds
Murder and destroying down the pinnacle

Changes of the ephemeral
A diamond to an emerald
Karma chains thoughts arrange
On a coming train to sever you
Ricochet manipulate
Holding pain at a level, you
Ascend the clouds
Murder and destroying down the pinnacle

[Verse 2]
Grass is only greener on the toxic ways of a defeatist
Mind fuckery lobs a creature drinking faith and inject an ether
It's easier to run and I'm free diving into the sun
Burning my aspirations all for the sake of one
This isn't hatred
This is displacement, malnourished organs
A seven story faceplant, dying flowers and space rents
About black holes and volumes of [?] and the superficial
Official puppeteer and my action would guild the psychological additions
You're a biological advancement infatuated with machinery
Kissing yourself on the mirror satisfied with how the gleam should be
I guess it's how it goes and I guess that it all makes sense
When regrets are the only thing alive in your world full of death