And its done
The way we speak in different tongues
Its way gone
The spirit of your name
It haunts the hall
Empty wallets from the night before
What a mess we made
We can pick
Our fights and wars
But we call it truce
When you bleed and screams
Whats gotten into you
The fear of it being real
Cripples you
What a mess we made
But i
Keep counting the numbers
Keep still on the bed
Make no noise
Make no claims
What a mess we made
The way you talk
So grey and stiff no movement tongue
Its getting real
The separation near
Can feel the tears
What a mess we made
We can pick
Our fights and wars
But we call it truce
When you bleed and screams
Whats gotten into you
The fear of it being real
Cripples you
What a mess we made
But i
Keep counting the numbers
Keep still on the bed
Make no noise
Make no claims
What a mess we made
YOU ARE READING
An autobiography in lyrics
PoetryA bunch of old lyrics I once wrote under crippling fear no one would love me. BOOK 1
