One might still sway on one road, a straight course. So 
what wreck unfolds a jagged knotted pile?
I don't even know the way. Was the exit sign just a 
photograph of mine? When we marked the lines, were we all 
just drunk?
One might creak and shudder away. Just pave the blood to 
the road.
There's no blame without records. No malice, no blame if 
there's no past.
No malice, no blame, with no past and no memories' 
weight. No malice, no blame, with no past and no name. No 
words, no deeds. Just smoke to cloud and dissolve.