Simon Kempston
  1. Estranged -:-- / 4:51

I’m almost blind, yet still those reckless minds, won’t leave me in peace, when will it cease?
A firm hand, still guides this land, to its desired reward, through an exchange of powerful words.
A stymied regret, won’t let me forget, or shake off the last of the shackles of the past.
My unwavering belief, has given me nothing but grief, and shattered clarity, I’ve lost hope of parity.

But the urge to continue does not fade, others speak of a war left unwaged.
Am I deranged? Or merely estranged?

My career’s been shaped, and there is no escape, from the gravity, of depravity.
An aspiration or hope, might help me cope and bear another loss, at an insurmountable cost.
The volley of shots, confuses and clots my line of thought, and the answers I’ve sought.
Sacrificed in vain, the sober and the sane, and the muffled tears, of those who I held dear.

A tragedy that so many have suffered and died, and that so few are left to turn the tide,
I must be deranged. Or perhaps estranged.

A careless word, that’s overheard, a thoughtless deed, that runs against our creed.
But not one gun, or battle won, will see our ends achieved, if we’re constantly deceived.

But I cannot let my dream be denied. And I cannot allow others to decide.
And what’ll happen when the pressure intensifies.
It’ll leave me deranged, and also estranged.