This one we'll call off.
The distance made an islet of intent and covered the way
to take our invested goals we chase.
Save your breath.
To follow becomes the rite of age.
Cold hands don't take from their own.
That's all you ever have to know.
Leave every waiting hand to hold disgrace
and vague resolve.
May you never know or own a single conviction.
Graves made to fall in may just shape, renew the same
and send them on their way to claim invested goals they chase
with only what they take from their own.