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[ my toils are bound in flesh and scars, ]

my toils are bound in flesh and scars,
i'm the atlas to a world of broken bottles,
the glass in my feet is the anchor of my soul,

you can knock me down,
but the blood is mine,
your flesh will be my dinner.

in the end the flesh, bones, sweat, blood and tears
was a worthwhile memory
and bound across my skin
is the memory of all the world's hatred
i stand alone as atlas,
the world on my shoulders,
Thor bitching at my back.

roast this POS...

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