---

We have some damage control to do

One hundred hurricanes to clean up after

Just you wait

Wooden legs will do you no good

When you try to walk on flames

Thy will burn your substitutions and

touch your solid skin

You can look back and

see the wrongs made in your trail

Creeping up your veins and

Swimming though you

And the Flames are rising

You're sweet on my tongue but

Bitter at the back of my throat

I will swallow my pride

In a hypocritical stance

Go down to the lake and

Wash the poison off your skin and

Try to make yourself

Clean again.