Over.

[rewiiired]

Timid, weak-willed and passive,
so very decadent and stagnant,
by all outward appearences
the epitome of mediocracy,
you could be the Last Man.

If not for the fact you're frigid, if not for
the depths of your wretched contempt,
if not for self-hate and wanting more,
you could be the Last Man,

but you're not,
you're something more,
but you're not all that you could be.

This blazing will,
locked up, self-contained:
overcome this cell and just run free.

Create and destroy, learn
when to hold on and let go,
learn to forget memories that
hold you back and just grow.

Reach the end of the rope
stretching so far over the abyss,
affirm the life you waste and
touch and kiss the earth you miss.

Your spirit was once a camel but you
were much more than you seemed,
more than you appeared,

the end in gestation, let out a roar in
your war against the dragon,
show no mercy or fear.

The great going-under.
This could be over.
The great going-under.
This could be over.