tacit acquiescence quaintly burns till we acquire a pride in all the work we have not done begging retired accusations we sickly string ourselves along rightly fighting for a future free from formless ire how the desperate long to be enthralled we bite the mouths off our emotions and light the days on fire choking under gathering smoke we crawl through the fetid on and onning drifting in a mire it helps to feel those brighter days are gone savor the power of revision the hurt returns a liar mindful of a tedium prolonged wistful with a withering tongue grown and wrong surviving the close calls while we re always revising our roles seizing the ceasing now as our aims miss our goals we size up our downfalls while we undress the pessimist s pose our tattered yes and nos it only matters that we chose as the surgeon s scalpel s dulling the patient should inquire if this instrument is worth its salt still he insists on this incision the situation s dire slicing out the faults right from wrong is there a chance this cancer still belongs sponge the inhibition keeps the host feeling too strong grown and wrong surviving the close calls while we re always revising our roles seizing the ceasing now as our aims miss our goals we size up our downfalls while we undress the pessimist s pose our tattered yes and nos what matters we re surviving the close calls while we re always revising our roles seizing the ceasing now as our aims miss our goals we size up our downfalls while we undress the pessimist s pose our tattered yes and nos it only matters that we chose