Always the bullet, never the gun

Always the boredom, never the fun



Always the lock, never the key

Always the caged, never the free


always the garnish, never the season

always the rhyme, never the reason



Always the trajectory, never the aim

Always the opposite, never the same


Always the fuel, never the fire

Always your need, never your desire

I've buried my dreams
In shallow graves
With ne'er a proper burial
For any or all
seconds at last
That had been and were
And weren't no more
Through a glass I looked
Rehearsing from a bible
Unwritten in tears not shed
Hallowed be the sky and sea
Beneath we lie
From around the world
Awaiting the praise of Lazarus
Let us pass through the tips of your fingers
Grasp and once more to be a man who dreams of grandeur

"I wonder..." Said I, to a particular no one
"If maybe, perhaps, someday, my desires won't be so vague..."

Bleach my soul with the tips of your fingers
Make it polish so your reflection lingers

Wring out every unpure thought until theres only you
You may even want to let some of those drip out too

Scrub my mind with an innocent nap together
To be awoken up by the sunny morning weather

Return my mind to the dirt when our lips meet
For the best results wash, rinse, and repeat.

The morning light reminds us of the folly our worry
Yet, again the nights have come we must hurry
The endless ticks have become the flurry
Up against the tocks we scurry
Our minds now our jury
Under covers we bury
Ourselves sorry

Yet still, the sun has risen, and we awaken in the rays of warmth against the leaves of sorrow
Let go and take foot from the nights