Tracks are followed, into the abyss.  Seen you here , from time to time, your something, I can’t miss. I think some people, are so

I was named after a renegade, and the fathers before me.  On a cold October day, in my family’s city.  Surrounded by so much potential,

You will find the, struggle of razors. All the cuts, lining up in a, straight line.  He keeps his distance, to keep his mind clear.

I can never tell, which way to go.  Is heaven worth it? Or go to hell. Somethings not right, inside my mind.  Just some misappropriation,