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Solstice Coil

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Solstice Coil

Brilliance

Life contains many headaches
Like a stroll in the desert,
Without a map
We're forced to choose
The most pleasant path we can find
Towards oblivion

Don't listen to what they say
Fifty thousand people,
Are wrong every day
For a decaying piece of bread,
Fifty thousand people,
Will stomp on you, every day

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Old socks come off
New socks come on
Old socks go to the washing machine
And then return to you, good as new
Until they reach disintegration.

But I -
Have been shone upon
I've traded in my box of broken hearts
For a lifetime supply
Of air