I could always play the solider, laying dying in the breeze.
I could be an empty coward, giving life up on grazed knees.
I could forge my role as chancer, dealing every hand but mine.
I could walk a lonely dancer, singing rhythms lost in time.
I could climb outside of beauty, building walls of pain and tears.
I could crawl inside of darkness, wasting life within my fears.
I could regress back to infancy, without caring nor concern.
I could wander in this state, and wonder what it is I'd learn.
I could turn into an angel, spreading peace and hope and love.
I could mask the heartless devil, killing all of the above.
I could live for revolution, and then lose it overnight.
I could fight to be the poet, whose forgotten how to write.
I could seek a deeper clarity, a path to set me free.
I could just remain the liar, and forget these all are me...