War and betrayal

What you spoke of what the words you uttered and grace didn’t fall to you plate or the stakes you set, and I rose just high enough to the ceilings you claim to not have, but build they may.

In the clouds is where I was fighting for my right and I heard the slashing in song, not from your cry but from the demise you set before you when you actually think you are stressed

It comes around and I suppose the end of war is in belief that fighting won’t succeed in the war of the mind. Better get your guns, I’ll keep them in my eyes and it looks could kill instead of showin the shine, talk about the desire to die die die