Analysis of ARMOR

I wear my heart on my sleeve so carelessly before I have to bleed for those who would not think twice to stop to breathe air into my dying lungs. there are those times that I feel as if I do not belong here as if I am not of this mind and space. I wear my armor and my skeleton mask on my face for both death and I fear each other and have mutual respect for the battles that neither of us cares to remember because they always end in a draw.

I got the love and I for sure have the soul, I am nobodies fool but I am still broken and just want to hang that fucking dented armor up I had enough but if I must fight for my life again then let us dance my friend all I ask is to allow me to pick the music or the waltz because my new moto is not why me but try me you son of bitch, an aging warrior never hangs up his armor for he always needs to be battle ready