Almost time for the end of this battle
Writing in pain
Shuffle and rattle
You’re the sound of the bullet
In a black and white movie
You’re the rooster
In a heavily sedated world
Our fruits are synthetic and our grass is plastic
But you’re the sun
That’s the only real thing
Everything governed
Life’s violently drastic
Make no decisions and have no regrets
Writing in pain ain’t nothing
When the pen is a quill
And the feather is the roosters