[font=tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif]Written by Fatal Dawn é
In Illuminated Likeness
Suffocated, and choked into submission. Surrounded
As insidious influences gnaw at our very inhibitions,
The addiction soothes us until it moves us from these fancy visions.
It shakes the innocent from their shelter, never to be brought back.
The past haunts us as the future prompts us to act;
Hazy turbulence taunts us towards the forsaken track.
An omen clutches the throats of those who live only for the moment.
Vicious and deceivingly potent ââ¬â it chokes us ââ¬â
In illuminated likeness.
Iââ¬â¢ve seen the bold drive their bodies off dicey bridges,
Watched as the woeful dug suspicious ditches,
The wide-eyed youth locked and bound to dangerous speeds.
Taken where angels fear to lead,
Lost, and never found in the heat of their deeds.
Concerned hearts are beaten until they bleed and remain numb.
Temptations lie in wait; anticipates the next prey will succumb.
Pain is a permanent stain shattering dreams into infinitesimal remains.
Transparent friends will quickly vanish. Banished ââ¬â
Sheltered away to confront products of their own anguish.
Memory is a bitter process.
Displacing the honest, and preserving them in precious solace.
False hope in absent remedies causes us to manufacture our own enemies.
Meanwhile our souls harbor a starving and empty entity. Following us,
Finding nourishment in a borrowed reservoir of greed and envy.
A familiar pitfall of lies will trap any secrets we attempt to hide.
Struggling and frantic, immediate cries echo in the panic ââ¬â
Drowning the calls of our own likeness cautioning us from inside.
Misled, we tread,
Ever-closer on a backwards path to becoming victims of vice instead.
Misery is a forbidden wasteland endlessly observed by dreary skies.
Only the fortunate arise, clearing their weary eyes.
Itââ¬â¢s our own hearts with whom we are warring,
Terrorized by our own demons we hear roaring.
The end is of no return, where many are held prisoner. Trapped
We live behind three walls of confusion, one of disillusion.
One after another we see no escape to this night. Confined
Plenty people plead an end to the plight.
This end is seen only by those who can transcend those heights.
In a distorted horizon of passionate blindness, they fight,
In illuminated likeness.
In Illuminated Likeness
Suffocated, and choked into submission. Surrounded
As insidious influences gnaw at our very inhibitions,
The addiction soothes us until it moves us from these fancy visions.
It shakes the innocent from their shelter, never to be brought back.
The past haunts us as the future prompts us to act;
Hazy turbulence taunts us towards the forsaken track.
An omen clutches the throats of those who live only for the moment.
Vicious and deceivingly potent ââ¬â it chokes us ââ¬â
In illuminated likeness.
Iââ¬â¢ve seen the bold drive their bodies off dicey bridges,
Watched as the woeful dug suspicious ditches,
The wide-eyed youth locked and bound to dangerous speeds.
Taken where angels fear to lead,
Lost, and never found in the heat of their deeds.
Concerned hearts are beaten until they bleed and remain numb.
Temptations lie in wait; anticipates the next prey will succumb.
Pain is a permanent stain shattering dreams into infinitesimal remains.
Transparent friends will quickly vanish. Banished ââ¬â
Sheltered away to confront products of their own anguish.
Memory is a bitter process.
Displacing the honest, and preserving them in precious solace.
False hope in absent remedies causes us to manufacture our own enemies.
Meanwhile our souls harbor a starving and empty entity. Following us,
Finding nourishment in a borrowed reservoir of greed and envy.
A familiar pitfall of lies will trap any secrets we attempt to hide.
Struggling and frantic, immediate cries echo in the panic ââ¬â
Drowning the calls of our own likeness cautioning us from inside.
Misled, we tread,
Ever-closer on a backwards path to becoming victims of vice instead.
Misery is a forbidden wasteland endlessly observed by dreary skies.
Only the fortunate arise, clearing their weary eyes.
Itââ¬â¢s our own hearts with whom we are warring,
Terrorized by our own demons we hear roaring.
The end is of no return, where many are held prisoner. Trapped
We live behind three walls of confusion, one of disillusion.
One after another we see no escape to this night. Confined
Plenty people plead an end to the plight.
This end is seen only by those who can transcend those heights.
In a distorted horizon of passionate blindness, they fight,
In illuminated likeness.