The eyes are rolling to the backs of skulls
100 miles per hour but we still sit and mull,
over oak tree hide outs and make out days
blurred visions, the stars, just a haze
we watch the dead lights turn from yellow to red
witness to sliced lives, lie down in bed
Trembling stiff fingers that stink of rot
Smell of tobacco that we wished was pot
Shaking in the dark of an amateur dance show
Breathing rattled breaths, fighting the urge to throw
Biting our inner lips and sleep forming in our eyes
The snipping of scissors, the cutting of ties
And there we sat for an hour and a day
Dancing their burdens and troubles away
But there we perched with our arms crossed tight
holding to our troubles, holding on to our plight
Coated in plaster with no way to break
we were eyes, took in all we could take
