the days are like a stone cast upon the roughed road
as one be thrown and rolled over the cruel surface
to shred and tear the skin that carest, now,
give way to blood that pours over the heat blazed ground
oh, whereupon may recall reason for such unkindly due
that befall upon this fated fall
blame the roughed road for its cruel fix
or curse the place that gave way to cast redness to the floor
to send the screaming spike of pain
breakout a yell of hell
a rolling upon the roughed road
how many are your days
till peace rest this yonder soul
