Smoke 'Em If Ya Got 'em

Die. Thoughts replaced by a placid romance. Without movement, I cant escape. Die. Searching through the static. Twisitd and torn inside of such blinding visions of destruction. So i have to question. Was this in the master plan? Now a broken future's all that we hold. Broken, BROKEN! Our broken future is all that we hold. Our day draws. To its close. Dusk. Washes away. Integrity now bleeds away. As tired hearts are left to drain. Do you see thier faces when you fall asleep at night? Now they're nothing more than blood stained memories. Blood stained memories.