I the weaker man? 
The paths before me, the lands once promised are nothing. 
Barren, war stripped. desert filled to the brim with the dead. 
Every corpse another dream, another wasted breath. 
Standing the test of time, from peasley canyon road to our numbers on the wall, 
we walked among giants and our voices were heard. 
More than statements of intentions, we never forget who we were and who we are. 
And all I want is to break free; to break these roots that have replaced my feet. 
For I have [bad word] a man that is one with the earth, sedentary. 
Buried beneath apathy. My apathy. 
Never forget who we are. Content at the bottom, never see the sun again. 
Beaten by what cant be seen by eyes. Only felt in our hearts. 
We are the architects of our demise...this is my revenge. 
But I remain [bad word]  anchored in the depths of my beliefs. 
Despite the waves that crash at my back, and tempt to sway my feet. 
Be it a fools stance, it is my revenge and I hold it close. 
Remain [bad word]  remain steadfast. for when the tide settles, 
weary and beaten, step by step, breaking free of everything; my heart has grown cold. 
Vindicated, we breathe easy again. 
When inspiration [bad word] an illusion and paths leading to glory 
turn to the dead end streets I've been treading all these years. 
This is vindication. This is spite. This is my apology. This is my revenge. 
I now know I am the better man. I gave it everything. 
I can't breathe and it's my dreams that are killing me.