STORM

No periods at the ends of my sentences

Searching wildly for the lyrical images

I am the confusion in the back of your brain

Yelling at your subconscious while ripping out the subliminal text range

What ever it is that you think you've been thinking

Is primarily subjective to the quicksand in which you're sinking

Some how believing you're so close to your goal

But reaching could damage your physical and soul

For you see it's all mine and I'm just not giving

Unrealistically speaking this chore you've been living

I've seen in your eyes the hints of desire

By extinguishing those flames I know your heart will expire

I have no beginning and I see no end

You carried me so long like some secret sin

Such a shame you keep trying but I have no fear

For DOUBT is my name...

And you still won't make it this year