Burned by the scorching sun
Uphill labored run
Downhill tortured tumble
I have known the crazed crumble
Blinded by the beauty of your setting sun
Yes, you set before you rose
Now I am left with the juxtapose
of your truth and your lies
Turning red, the whites of my eyes
In the turn of time's table
It is only a little Fairy Tale
A story told as a life lesson at bedtime
A haunted tale of our dead time
In my blinding
came
The illumination of your binding
guilt, self loathing and fear
Rewrite your tale, gallant hero dear
Save yourself this time
Pen your freedom into the tale's rhyme
Run no longer uphill
There is no magic dust to spill
Atop your head to heal your demons
Turn and face them, end your fleein'
And the tale's end will present a victory
You, the hero of your own labored love story
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