I had lost myself in heaven
that I had started to unravel
where I was once from
it was peaking dull— super unfun
it’s too stunning in here
to believe any of it is ever real
So I’m by the lava
walking a flimsy plank
waiting for the halt
when it all starts to fall
then I’m in to think
that it’s really worth it all
for all the fun i’ve rolled
oh, so back when I was young,
but not so wild and free but
now i’d twirl finally—
I’m so wild and free
when I’m not supposed to be
Oh, what lava dipped rods
The world had built on odds
They’d grit upon their walls
Then roll them onto salt
When stars would demise
I had to once too—
It was all full of lies
and very little truths
Then I got hoisted on stars
Then you’d tune your voice
To the world, that I was once
a mere student of yours.
But after, and whatnot
all i ever was to you
was just bitter noise
these are— were, things and a few bits
I’d never thought I’d reminisce
about before.
Not even when I ran foot
through the very first door.
But that’s how I dream
and live— blues seem
to stealth upon every bit—
of my widowed soul
it always guards me.
except when I happen to stick to sad
I never feel sad at all—how odd these all are.
Feb 21, 2025
Feb 21, 2025 at 5:15 PM UTC
I had lost myself in heaven
that I had started to unravel
where I was once from
it was peaking dull— super unfun
it’s too stunning in here
to believe any of it is ever real
So I’m by the lava
walking a flimsy plank
waiting for the halt
when it all starts to fall
then I’m in to think
that it’s really worth it all
for all the fun i’ve rolled
oh, so back when I was young,
but not so wild and free but
now i’d twirl finally—
I’m so wild and free
when I’m not supposed to be
Oh, what lava dipped rods
The world had built on odds
They’d grit upon their walls
Then roll them onto salt
When stars would demise
I had to once too—
It was all full of lies
and very little truths
Then I got hoisted on stars
Then you’d tune your voice
To the world, that I was once
a mere student of yours.
But after, and whatnot
all i ever was to you
was just bitter noise
these are— were, things and a few bits
I’d never thought I’d reminisce
about before.
Not even when I ran foot
through the very first door.
But that’s how I dream
and live— blues seem
to stealth upon every bit—
of my widowed soul
it always guards me.
except when I happen to stick to sad
I never feel sad at all—how odd these all are.
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