Word on its back

I see an aging youth, and the truth that feeds a haunted past. There?s no solace in yesteryears. With these fears abound, how can I last? These city sidewalks flow with peoples? dreams and aspirations. A sinking mood has swept the land. Straight laced, pure frustration. Random violence greases the wheels on the hate machine. Try and wash these dirty days, you can?t make them clean. Where do I go to garner trust, there?s none to find. Seek out your maker because you?re not safe among your kind. No way out of this self made cell. Heavens waiting for the believers, those fearing hell, and the lifelong grievers. Pressure treated, forced to break. We?re holding court from the lowest rung, a sore reminder of what?s at stake. This common heartache is shared by all. Sit and stack your chips, I?ll be there to watch them fall. No way out of the self-made cell. No way out of this self-made hell.