On one side stands a warrior
Too much blood on his hands
From he sacred grounds of glory
Rise the spirits of the past
A legacy of battle
Broken bows & bones of war
He just wants to ride away
Cause he can't fight no more
On one side rides a god
Intoxicated by his muse
She doesn't even have a name
Maybe she feels used
A trail of tears and unmade beds
And morning after lies
In a world of fists and hearts
That's how this man survives
Mythology, metaphor, and madness etched in ink
All the scars and blood and pain
That took me to the brink
I'm the poet, I'm the lover,
I'm the rager, I'm the scribe
It's beautiful and brutal
These paintings of my life
I'm walking in this skin I'm in
And there's still room left to write
Still room left to write
Still room left to write