I can't seem to focus,
It's hopeless unless the sky opens,
Look you in the eyes and all I see is a blur hopin,
That my previous mindstate; could be resurrected,
To the old me; it's like you had me injected with imperfection,
How could you be so reckless? I initially meant it,
Seems like you put your effort into me, what am I left with?
Nothin' but a canvas with a black and white portrait,
Of me and you, in a burnin' garden of scorchin' orchards.
Simple beauty that's bein torn down by your power,
That constantly pounds on my soul hour after hour,
Now I can hardly breathe, get rid of these memories, ...