Wish Me Luck

Standing in the crowd screaming, no one looks There is no containing this inner riot A sort of quiet desperation, a silent panic A trip in the mind back to the beginning Feeding on the heart, at least its remnants Standing in the crowd screaming, no one looks Needing something more to quail the demons Mending broken bones with more broken bones A sort of quiet desperation, a silent panic Memories lost in the chaos of it all, why? Fetch the saw to amputate the worthless limb Standing in the crowd screaming, no one looks Forget about the past, look toward the future Future not visible, the past seems so inviting A sort of quiet desperation, a silent panic Left to rot in the choices that made this empty Gazing at those who stood and sold themselves Standing in the crowd screaming, no one looks A sort of quiet desperation, a silent panic