Changing at instances, for good or for worse
Sometimes the cadavers of our dead selves
Are often left in the sun, picked upon by vultures
It is in our nature to curse, at time's dissent
To fight against the obscurity, swim against the tide
Often yielding woe, sometimes faux gratification
In fool's errands, regretful musings, dead and cold
I have died so many times, been born again
Yet the memories of my deaths ring profound
I can agree to time's over ruling and subterfuge
But I would forever refuse my ability to love die
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