Walking on Glass

Sometimes it feels like I'm digging my grave,

Six feet under, mud running down my head;

No matter how much world progress is made,

It always seems to be at the price of the dead.

 

And sometimes it feels like I'm walking on glass,

Barefoot, stepping on coals and hot steel;

Scraping skin, cutting flesh as I pass,

Walking till it's burnt to the bone.. but I can't feel.

 

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