Always in the Rough

Four black coffees every morning,

One in the afternoon;

The pressure builds inside my chest

But I will sleep it through

Before the sunrise starts again

And midnight fades to blue;

I wonder when you'll hear my voice

And hold me like you do.

Why are your misty morning eyes

So grey inside of you?

Where has the sacred hour gone

That breathes your life anew?

For ill when destiny recalls

Into a deeper hue

Of radiant color and of strife

And missing comfort, too:

Who would be called to such a life

And of their own ado?

For me, I feel the pull is strong;

I've felt it since my youth.

We're living, and they break us down

Into their world of fools;

But can't you feel that we are one

Within our silly rules?

When fire and heat amp up inside

Is when our diamonds cut themselves...