cradle to coffin

can you stop the trickling blood?
the broken heart that's been thrown in the mud?
I wonder if it'll scar or just never heal,
I guess it all depends on the way I feel,
we control our destiny as much as we can,
though we all fail because we lack a plan or something of substance our minds,
the pain continues, our health is on a constant decline
I talk till my lips fall off,
I walk till my blisters pop,
though I didn't get any closer to my goal,
and because that I know I'll never feel whole.

the grasping talons at my feet,
try to drag me down to my defeat,
little do they know I'm already dead,
my mind is lost and so is my head,
the pendulum swings with a bladed underside,
I can't make my own fate, apparently that's for destiny to decide.