Split
I’m reminded of a time so long ago that matches today to the smallest detail.Whichever path I choose at this junction, this crossroad, only the end will tell me if I’m right.You won’t know what you reap until you sow, and business is looking arid.I’m left writhing in chains, behind on rent and hiding from the landlord.Just another poverty-stricken demon against society, and tomorrow,Amidst all my grumbling, the midnight train departs and flies away.
Stars beget stars, circling the sky like passing scenery to the rhythm of the calendar.What am I looking for? What did I leave behind? What’s important? What’s expendable?Escapism marks the end of the end. No one can follow me to the water’s edge.Ecstasy meets the world at the intersection, comes to its senses, and is audited.
I heard the voice of a soul lost in the limbo between what is right and what is proper.I can’t trust the East or the West, and darkness has me surrounded on all sides.But there’s no fighting it. I choose my path. Even my death is sublime if I’m the cause of it.I can feel the gun held up to my head. If I’ll reach tomorrow, then now’s the deciding split.