And the situational feelings,
Being with you always makes me feel,
Like I’ve been cheated out of,
Something,
Important,
And if,
My heart won’t let you go,
I’m cheated,
By you in the most innocent sense.
Yet none the less,
I’m cheated,
Cheated by the pureness of you.
Perfection,
Everyone’s seeking,
Perfection,
Yet we lose hold of what’s most perfect of all,
And we’re held back,
Seeking what is hidden,
Dying in the failing race of,
Lovers,
People who are unselfishly true.
Broken,
All promises are made to be,
Broken,
Now I know what my wishes are,
Crushed up,
Laying cold and shattered,
Bust up,
In my mind I see only you.
Promise,
All we make seems to have,
Promise,
Lovers broken down in the,
Side streets,
Surburban street hell,
Where the children lie,
In gutters over flowing with,
The sewage of the long,
Forgotten days.
Forgotten,
All the past seems to be,
Forgotten,
The invisible children lost,
In the endless days of night,
Time after Clocks,
Life after Time.
And the ticking of the dull gray clock,
Upon the dull gray wall,
Reminds me,
That pride comes before a fall,
And the fall comes,
Before the ending,
The ending of all.
And winding backwards,
The clock still ticking,
Falling out of time,
I wonder,
Could it be that all this time,
All I needed was your touch?
