Madder Mortem

I'm handing in my guns now
I will stop slipping away like sand between your fingers
For better or for worse,
I yield to you
I will lay my armour down,
claim the hunger and the words
that were always on my mind
Any triumph breeds defeat
Any blessing holds a curse
but for once I won't let go
You laugh at all my twists and turns
The stories I tell find a home in your memory
And by now it is too late to run,