Nostalgia
Standing at the crossroads, My past catching up, Shoot me with a crossbow, And beat me to a pulp, Drown me in my walls, And feed me all your crap, I'm still who I am, Battered by your lies. My heart is just a shrine, My eyes a wall of hurt, But that's for a little while, My blood tastes just like wine, My scars are piece of art, But that's for a little while. Scorching, burning, Limping, crawling, Searching, finding, Breaking, tearing, Crying, howling, Confused with all these sides. This is just a backstage call, A heartbreak wound, A cracked up wall, A rusty sword.
