As the thorns grown with care start to twist they make new colored eyes. As the flesh starts to split like the wrists that slit...as I break, and they spit. And I break as they spit.    This temptation that invites me to life...what's salvation? Is it in this invitation to praise the fallen?    As a world grown with care starts to sing it's swarmed by cacophony. One and all punished now for just one wouldn't bow. Without grace all are left in disgrace chasing death.    I don't believe the beliefs of the righteous are so righteous at all. I do believe that the mark placed upon us is misconceived. Who shall fall?    As the guilt raining down reaches flooded ground the insects must concede to this wrong they belong. In this left they are strong. As the right start to bleed on the right they shall feed.