I am a victim of my own design
creating tragedies in my own mind

These days I feel the honesty well up inside of me
as if its time to start facing the reality facing side of the valley
and let the sun burn the skin off my cheeks
to reveal the lies I carry beneath...

We were lovers of the worst kind
The type you don't tell you friends about
That you don't really wanna talk about
But you have every thought about

Around the moon and slightly ajar
A man sat down his eyes to the stars
A wish he made on a star he gazed
That tomorrow he'll get to see her again

A black bird on a bridge side
Sitting slightly on an incline
Tilts its head somewhat oddly
And squints at the wind as if he sees it passing
Is it too heavy a breeze
To fly with ease?

The world must look different to you
You wear a hat and shined shoes
It must have a smiling face
A face I knew
For I am just a lone chimney sweep
Pushing around the dust
No weather brings surprise
No world changes for us
Same stories keep the fire company
Same sandwich for lunch
We only give what is asked for
We never ask for much
Another day up the chimney
Not a complaint nor a fuss
Our world doesn't have any ears
The world looks different for us

I cry for the wind sometimes
How she gives up far too easily after she rages so heavily
And screams in all her might stirring and swirling everything about
Like a child tossing all her toys out of her cot
Like a drunk swearing at the moon
I cry because we are far too alike
We burst and quake, let the earth feel our discontentment
Then when all our quaking is done
And the air is out our lungs, we lay weak in the shadows of ourselves
With only our bare skin to swaddle us