Downhill slope, colliding tunnel, indifference to surroundings and chaotic behavior
Sharp words, soft sounds, frank phrases, and inconsistent remarks
When a broken heart, fails to accept its cause, and situation
It fails itself through personal destructive consumation
The kind that is predictable in a sliding time
The kind that drops, and refuses to arise
When all is said and done, actions conveyed into another experience
All that's left are the healing bruises, and the contemplative sense
When 'I' thinks it has died, it has just reached the end of the cocoon
The enclosed space, which was drastically confined with mythological tales
The desperate pleas, the meaningless words, and the parrot phrases
Oh wait, I think I see some light
Now is the chance to learn to fly
