we strolled along the devils path,

towards a certain death,

but we turned right,

when we should’ve turned left,

the sticks that were stones,

broke all but the bones,

as we let is all go,

under and over,

beneath the winding waves of a world gone away,

proving the struggle,

avoiding the facts,

we stutter and we tumble,

we crumble and we decay,

and wither away..