Pick Your Poison

Rough Around the Edges



to swine, to kings, to rough rotten things,
my allegiances stand on their own.
to fear! to spite! to more lonely nights,
left to worship my temples alone.

well it could be worse,
and it could be over,
and i would be free 
to sail as i please.
but without me mates,
wats the point of the days?
cept to sit around hoping to change,
o to sit around waiting to change.