Composure
Gel
3:16Trying to see, vision unclear Distortions persist, we bend and we veer Different destination than what was first planned Depleted, but hungry, I forge with my hands With my hands Yeah Yeah, it presses up, pulling me down The rope retains tightly bound Self-inflicted fear of the unknown Shackles gripping tight, pulled off from the throne From the throne Hiding from who? The glare of the world? Is it a glare or a gaze to behold? Don't fucking cower Stand your ground Stare right back and be proud