I don't crave death, I just crave peace
I don't crave death, I just crave peace

Yo yoyoyo

I couldn't use words to describe the way I mold words with my mind it ain't worth your time,
I scribble with a certain design that screams I'm perfectly fine, sure what a lie,
uh
Life is a bookshelf covered in sand, I found it buried in the desert with a glove in my hand,
Uncovered by the shutters I had come to withstand, and lackin' everything from shelter to a love for the land,
I pulled the first work off the shelf and opened up a page,
saw the chapter I portrayed it better, flowers, and the rain,
Thought that it was arbitrary till I saw the angus,
Started shifting on the paper into everything I say,
Saw myself painting pictures with a crumbling crayon,
That I'm holdin' in a fumblin' hand,
Feel the sun where I stand,
Started meltin' and did nothin' but plans,
That I would never set to motion as a puddle of man
So I slammed the book quickly 'fore I headed to the exit
Ya never know who's gonna be the last to hear your message,
And beside of the impressed with a variety and lessons,
I suppose that I should ask myself the final nagging question like,
When I die will they care?
Will they cry, will they stare when my eyes are closed,
And do the numbers really matter when the pride isn't there,
Will I ever feel successful,
Will I smile at the pros, alright,

How many times,
Can I make the same damn song before it gets old,
How many times,
Do I have to tackle this demon before its dethrone,
How many times,
Can I make the same damn song before it gets old,
How many times,
Do I have to tackle this demon,

You were waiting at the station for a train,
I was awkwardly complacent in my ways,
Started pacing when I didn't see your face,
Pulled my book out of my bag, and flipped it open to a page
Considering the path that I had taken on this day,
Soon enough I'd finished I was simply blown away,
It was a story that I'd heard a million times,
But it seemed it was different when the atmosphere was gray,
So I started walking past the things that once had made me blind,
Soon are ampersand landing so aligned,
That the planets and the stars were soon to follow close behind,
In the image of their uniform imbedded in my mind,
It was more a decoration then it ever was a sign,
A declaration of a pattern I designed,
Extrapolation in the form of writing rhymes,
And filling in the blanks is still existed time to time,
Wondering,

How will I escape from this place if the area in question was created in my wake it's impossible to ever disconnect you from your thoughts so my conscience started shapin' up the way it is today,
And never will I ever let the memories decay cause the Patrick from the present is a relic of the past,
Who has overstepped his boundaries regarding when to stay and when to leave it's really nothing but a question of what lasts so,
How will I escape from this place if the area in question was created in my wake it's impossible to ever disconnect you from your thoughts so my conscience started shapin' up the way it is today,
And never will I ever let the memories decay cause the Patrick from the present is a relic of the past,
Who has overstepped his boundaries regarding when to stay and when to leave it's really nothing but a question of what lasts so.