| Found a bottle on the beach
|
| The message inside wasn’t complete
|
| For the time had worn the paper thin
|
| My reflections not
|
| what it used to be
|
| I’m broken down
|
| somewhat fallen out with the fantasy
|
| Drank the ink up of the paper
|
| Till the words spilled down my chin
|
| From my lips
|
| They dripped on to my hands into my skin
|
| Felt the rush as the letters tumbled on and on through my veins
|
| To my heart
|
| And on into my brain
|
| Found a bottle on the beach
|
| The message inside wasn’t complete
|
| For the time had worn the paper thin
|
| My reflections not
|
| what it used to be
|
| I’m broken down
|
| somewhat fallen out with the fantasy
|
| The serifs tore at my synapses
|
| Till I finally let them in
|
| Ancient scripts
|
| A war torn city on the brink
|
| On the waters edge I faltered
|
| Then the waves crashed overhead
|
| And in the undertow my journey began
|
| As the days fly by
|
| The hours stand still
|
| The hands of the clock move in for the kill
|
| As the days fly by
|
| The hours stand still
|
| From these broken feathers, we’ll make our wings
|
| As the days fly by
|
| The hours stand still
|
| From these broken feathers, we’ll make our wings
|
| Found a bottle on the beach
|
| The message inside wasn’t complete
|
| For the time had worn the paper thin
|
| My reflections not
|
| what it used to be
|
| I’m broken down
|
| somewhat fallen out with the fantasy |