The Canvas

Everything I had I've buried that ten years ago And everything I have - your picture in the hip pocket This is just a piece of that photography This is just a spot in my memory I write with blood I have no ink With every letter I'm losing self-contro

Reveal the poison Covering Everything Like malice gripping its hand To choke out impurities Zig zags coursing through our veins What stands now to purify? Lead the thoughts just a bit further To a conclusion you can't deny It all comes to this comes