| The electricity in this mirror
|
| Whispers to my ears
|
| About all the clashing pathways I live with
|
| Hitting my senses with sparks and nails
|
| Showing me what things would be
|
| If nights didn’t last a lifetime
|
| And darkness wasn’t this lonesome
|
| Years to come are just a blur in the eye
|
| The shape of a ghost caught while falling down
|
| Years to come are buried in this ocean’s belly
|
| Floating as deep as that diary I threw in long ago
|
| Its pages melting in each other
|
| Thoughts and thoughts shapeshifting away
|
| Ink stains forming the only word still worth reading
|
| Departure
|
| Disappearing like the turn in a magic trick
|
| There is no prestige in this act though
|
| The magician is not coming back any time soon
|
| Tonight
|
| May the echo of all the words I didn’t pronounce
|
| Dance in the air for us
|
| Like thousands of bones reflecting the moonlight
|
| Tonight
|
| May everything that is mine be eaten up by fire
|
| I’ll honor the cracking sound of my own past
|
| Smell the sweet bitterness of this all in front of me
|
| And once the salt of these tears will dry out
|
| I’ll rejoice for the chance of seeing you again
|
| Nothing true comes without destruction
|
| And with the ashes of my demise
|
| I’ll paint a new door to open
|
| And may the quiet that follows
|
| Be as kind as the child’s smile in me
|
| While choking from all of this unwanted attention
|
| The electricity in this mirror
|
| Whispers to my ears
|
| About all the clashing pathways I live with
|
| Hitting my senses with sparks and nails
|
| Showing me what things would be
|
| If nights didn’t last a lifetime
|
| And darkness wasn’t this lonesome |