Discarding Arrows from No Renaissance by Crafter

One last walk in the cold night, electing thoughts in passing headlights. Before the dawn can claim the praise, the billboards beg me to repent again. I beg their words to let me in. “Let our hearts be broken.” But we can’t understand. There’s no way in when the locks are broken. We lose the fight when we start retreating, hiding from the consequence of time. There’s no love in a bliss that’s fleeting. We await the consequence of time. So long, farewell, all’s lost on the consequence of time. I can’t see it, only feel it. This is loss is a consequence of life. All’s lost on me. All’s lost on us. I’ll let these hands be tied so you’ll know how little I’ll fight. Dragging chains at rusted gates, it’s like I’m almost out of blood to bleed here. All this running comes to a close. I finally see the depths take hold to pick and choose what I can recall in hours that chip at the edge of your soul. There is nowhere to go. All’s lost on me. Where’s love when bleeding? All’s lost on a bliss that’s fleeting. All’s lost on me.

• Punk
• aggressive
• hardcore
• hardcore punk
• melodic hardcore
• youth crew