Black and blue hands,
Contusions
Head held high.
The black blood under my eye
That can't reach my mind
Without getting a Cold pack
How can I see the future
With red streaks on my face?
So how can I let it be?
Yet I have come this remote
The cost of getting rid of
Is the coward look I will shove.
Replay? Rematch?
Let's go
Isn't that strength?
That's how everything changes
The cursed cycle begins
This is all I know
The pain that conforts you.
If its not part of your identity
let it go
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