I run through life,
I examine this knife,
I wonder how long it has been, since I first started this
fight,
This fight between, life and death,
The fight that always leaves me, in a bloody mess,
The fight that shows I always fail the test,
That I am not trying, even close to my very best,
This wind the churns,
This wind that urns,
This wind that burns,
To let me know there is always a way to change,
To others I seem completely inhumane,
Or rather what little friends I have call me insane,
I do not like to admit
And I do not like to commit
The things I do all the time, which are nothing, but sin,
But this is how I go through life, my life known as, the
burning wind.