Your words are cannons of anger, Your thoughts are valleys of hate; Wound and twisted into our destinies, Its but an irony of fate. Jagged are the ways of life, my friend; Afraid to swallow my sorrow's blend. In the path, our ways we mend, We save for the day, and tomorrow's end. In my eyes, my memories burn, ravaging our lands, we sit and mourn. Will break us all, the friendly ice, Its jagged teeth, we so despise. Nevertheless, we sit and cry, our own lives, we're turning sour; To break the path, the jagged ride, we wait the day, and turn the tide.
