| Hung beneath the lurid glare of ruined dreams
|
| Raw conceit dressed in flesh and human heat
|
| Another broken clock well cleaned
|
| A future of self prescribed irrelevance
|
| The color of debt and subjugation
|
| Hard time
|
| A bottomless well of wishes unfulfilled
|
| A semi-erect, neglected pawn
|
| Living in guilt, regret and negligence
|
| Dying face down on a soiled mattress
|
| Same four grey walls
|
| Spinning
|
| Do we seem miserable?
|
| How should we feel?
|
| When their fat hands
|
| Keep reaching out to take what’s ours
|
| They want us to like it
|
| Our black hole
|
| Settle in and get sucked down
|
| Celebrate our decline
|
| With closed eyes
|
| Suspicion and fear decide our moral code
|
| While faith in ourselves flickers out
|
| Assuming the worst is always preferable
|
| To giving the benefit of doubt
|
| The devil we know, the devil in our hearts
|
| The lover we hide from all our friends
|
| The secret we keep until our dying hour
|
| The terminal hope that we refuse to let go of…
|
| That there is more
|
| Beyond death
|
| There is love
|
| But the pain just gets worse as you age
|
| You’d better get used to its claim
|
| On your dwindling remainder of days
|
| You’ll put a face to the name
|
| Of the phantom that drove you insane
|
| She waits patiently to take you away
|
| But every once in a while
|
| The list of mistakes you’ve compiled
|
| Seems irrelevant and slips from your mind
|
| And in those moments the weight
|
| Holding you down shifts away
|
| And with the pressure removed you can
|
| Almost see who you thought you would be
|
| Far removed from the body and mind
|
| You reluctantly still occupy |