What am I supposed to be?nSome kind of man, made of steel? nLike those autumn leaves you fall nFrom off your trees your lives are reaped nHope is such an old cliche? stampeded by our runaways nDamn those words they're used to say nFreedom and justice, so God damn empty nnBones, bones, bones nAll around me, and I'm screaming nAnd I'm bleeding nnGrowing old so soon, so fast nChildren morph into glass. nPrisoners in our own cells, nWe keep the keys beside our deeds nGazing tombstones turn to me nAnd force their essence into me nWe should all laugh at this trap nBecause people still use words like freedom and justice nnDon't you lock yourself up and then complain, nAbout those wings that were taken away, nDon't you dare look at me in that damn cold way, nTake my grace and shove it in your face.