:: the same song ::
the same song, over and over again.
The same themes, the same dead - the same lines, the same smells - the same bed.
I called myself the obelisk that sat in place - serving as a warning to others who would misplace.
I called myself the red of light - searing all who would pass; infinite in wisdom, turning sand to glass.
I saw the world, i touched the stars - in minutes this empty still left behind bars
I drew the face and left the lines - as quick as i woke, these memories i bind.
A scab to scab and the feathers to lust - and last night the same, with cut lead to rust.
"There is a dream inside a dream - i'm wide awake the more i scream; you'll understand when i'm dead"
and then come the epiphany; and here comes clarity
for the moments brought in sleep - bring mirrors for the mind.
...and when the answer that you want is in the question that you state -
_
spoken. at 5:29 PM
the same song, over and over again.
The same themes, the same dead - the same lines, the same smells - the same bed.
I called myself the obelisk that sat in place - serving as a warning to others who would misplace.
I called myself the red of light - searing all who would pass; infinite in wisdom, turning sand to glass.
I saw the world, i touched the stars - in minutes this empty still left behind bars
I drew the face and left the lines - as quick as i woke, these memories i bind.
A scab to scab and the feathers to lust - and last night the same, with cut lead to rust.
"There is a dream inside a dream - i'm wide awake the more i scream; you'll understand when i'm dead"
and then come the epiphany; and here comes clarity
for the moments brought in sleep - bring mirrors for the mind.
...and when the answer that you want is in the question that you state -
_
spoken. at 5:29 PM
