Ben Richman English 303 H Found a Fault, Bound to Fall

A silent, subtle inhibition Of dark-born hopes and wild addiction It smells so free, so clean, so warm So sweet, so calm it takes its form. Hear the storm with haste approaching See the signs your life reproaching The signs, those signs your mind preys witness The pain that hurts without forgiveness What now? Those signs call out False loving A worrying that your life means nothing Here there is a hope of beauty A thing of peace; to achieve, my duty This sign that mocks my life and taunts Of life worth living and objects to flaunt And it haunts my soul to think to leave The family I love and without Id grieve But I must do something Existence means nothing No hope and no life No freedom, this strife. I set the signs on fire and they go down in flames

Just to rise like a phoenix but the pain remains. So I pack my bags and walk through the gates To enter a new life when I land in the States.