In the new year, complaints are born anew.
Dreams unearthed and brushed aside.
Just complaints, it's what I do,
Getting older,and growing up...
They're my wanton and petty lies.
Gabbing loud forgetfulness,
My dark and sunken eyes.
Damn my past and all the rest.
The future in disguise.
Always one more blood fueled quest
From my grave beneath the skies.