Tyranny of Small Misery

The wake up means walking on the edge. Wrong desicions
running through my veinsĂŠ Immortal sorrow scars on my
soul. Rejected and trapped in myself.
Black velvet was the gift of the time.
Nothing left to loose. Nothing to believe hands tied
feet chained. Hidind behind shadows of anger.
To wake up means walking on the edge. But I often feel
that misery. Is the most important part of being happy.