burning away the identity worn within these suits of skin

some roads roll straight never to break, never to bend

we entice the appetite of death, teasing it with gentle tastes

as we dance upon the line as if it were an idea found to be wise

and when the bottom falls out, we chase it with a shot glass of poison

turning off the lights and sleeping through the chaos of the night

will we ever learn to be without the chemical burn

and it subtly gentle chasers with a promising appeal on the tastes

we cannot be created to be equal, indestructible, and unsatisfiable 

without knowing any consequence.

this is human error in our finer hours

unmistakably unforgiven by the tones of voices

and looks shot out by friends

we chase...

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