PoisonFlowers
Well-known member
October 7th
October the seventh, two thousand and nine
I'm hoping that I promise this for the last time
The first step towards triumph comes from defeat
Before an advance I must first retreat
Retreat I do; sly, furtive, discreet
You know the drill: wash, slice, repeat
You know the saying: No Pain, No Gain
So why do I feel so tinged with shame?
The treatment of the prisoner is inhumane
You've no resistance, you hold the blame
We're accustomed now, to this violent deal
But today this ends;
today, I heal.
October the seventh, two thousand and nine
I'm hoping that I promise this for the last time
The first step towards triumph comes from defeat
Before an advance I must first retreat
Retreat I do; sly, furtive, discreet
You know the drill: wash, slice, repeat
You know the saying: No Pain, No Gain
So why do I feel so tinged with shame?
The treatment of the prisoner is inhumane
You've no resistance, you hold the blame
We're accustomed now, to this violent deal
But today this ends;
today, I heal.