| Footsteps,
|
| they followed mother’s death
|
| They followed suit and peeled the paint off the walls
|
| Behind a metal desk inside a modern mausoleum
|
| you have found your calling, calling for fall
|
| No amount of sound
|
| could make us fade the way you’re fading now
|
| Lost way,
|
| current emotional states
|
| left folding gold under a fluorescent light
|
| It’s a touch agoraphobic,
|
| I suggest a catatonic height
|
| but hypochondriac’s suggestion weight
|
| I held your hand
|
| I drew a line in the sand
|
| I couldn’t bare to think your losing your mind
|
| But when the red flags bolted up is when your outlook started shifting
|
| Just a shift requires valued time
|
| You need to write this down
|
| No amount of sound
|
| could make us fade the way you’re fading now
|
| When will you fade out?
|
| Footsteps,
|
| they followed mother’s death
|
| They followed suit and peeled the paint off the walls |