Beacons from the night illuminating the sky, they stand aligned. The wind inside blows turning all to white, as I pull my scarf tight. Blurring my sight the time speeds by, keeping me in line. Might the dreams I only dream come to be mine?
It’s hard to write love songs when you’re bound from soul to wrists, but getting what I what need always comes before getting what I wish. So i’m seeking some escape and giving into total depravity, and I’m running down my hallways, while pacing in the dark, hoping for some stumbling block to finally end this heart.
But why should I listen to the kettle call me black, while I’m standing in line for a heart attack?
I’ll be the first to admit I’ve predicted the path incorrectly, but it’s not my fault I was chosen as the navigator.
"I get so distracted by some people's reactions that I don't see my own faults for what they are. At times it's so self destructive, with no intent or motive, but behind this emotion, there lies a sensible heart..."
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