For greed or need,
following money’s lead.
But, the result is the same,
reduced to a slave,
or a docile little pet.
And, what I get?
Still, I walk on the hell’s road,
carrying its load,
and to self I vowed,
that, soon I’ll walk away,
yeah, that’s what I said.
Now, in the brink of collapse,
too tired look up and see
where I am going,
but the guideposts were showing
and devil was vowing
that better future lies straight ahead.
Just follow the horde,
that almighty lord,
they had all given their word.
Shocked, by a gilt of fear,
I’ve already given away what’s dear,
this was my ideal, in the past,
it did not last.
So tired, without any will to act,
I have already made a pact.
So, I walk on hell’s road,
carrying its load,
as a zombie, a walking corps,
following light on a devil’s torch,
a thoughtless slave
cannot be saved
if I am afraid.
Sweet familiar suffering,
and habit is buffering,
the need to learn and improve,
can I still choose
new direction and move,
higher, but downhill road is so much wider,
and unknown is filled with danger,
to my friends I might become a stranger.
As a dull minded corpse,
things are only getting worse.
When I live in the fear of death,
my soul has taken, its very last breath.
Poems 