Die and regress from the time of being,
whatever is done is not seeing.
The river has been a hazard from the end,
contemplating everything that ever begins.
We're not going to be soothed by hysteria,
it's like a rotten mold that tastes like malaria.
Chain linked souls and God ridden holes,
feel like moles digging up their homes.
Denying the past won't assure the future,
nothing you do is really for sure.
Guarantee your faith in the religion you hold,
keep it right next to your pound of gold.
Old festering memories get swallowed away,
it doesn't feel like it's there but we call it a day.
Sex and wants is all we crave for,
to find a million dollars or a well to do whore.
Don't try to find the answer to life,
it's based on heartache, pain and strife.
So let the ships travel wherever they go,
and maybe some day God will let you know.