You must join them, or they will join you
You speak of it, and it speaks the truth
Mechanical pulses, obsessive impulses
No one asks , and no one tells
All who scream are all who yell
Camo, machine guns, and casual reruns
Traced around, you in chalk
Some will run, but some will walk
Smoke in your step and flames in your breath
Lifted up in ashes
Your motive never crashes
Up above the embers
Only you remember
The golden years
The chosen years
So wasted and frozen
Those years
Remember?
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