Blood that screams mixes with tears of fears, Over your hypocrisy and useless years. Fresh cuts don't matter - your attentions yet wane. It's just too easy to shut down, I could end this pain. But, escape artists aren't artists at all. When life ends the real journey begins, the journey to be Above imperfection and glorified weakness everyone sees. Life trickles into the drain of the sink, wash it and pretend The veil is burning off,but there is only so much fire can mend Besides, escape artists aren't artists at all.