Misanthropic Days (WAYD)

A party of forlorn scars And lust roams in the air Illusions caress reality In the cauldron of the empty words & stares You lick your lips to feel The sadness inside all of us The clear response, we're at the end It's time to go, the bottle is drunk Be quick & take a handful of what remained You deserve less than you're asking for Between the new walls of joy & hate