When you come out from hiding,
I will be waiting
And we can both throw aside our masks
But never for too long.
And we can either end this or start this
Our engines burning, tired,
Cold
But never truly real.
They'd never have guessed this,
We'd never have attempted,
But I've always known,
Swept away with the wind.
The gore doesn't match your clothes
As we cut deeper into ourselves,
Closing into discovery,
But no one ever knows.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 3:52 PM UTC
When you come out from hiding,
I will be waiting
And we can both throw aside our masks
But never for too long.
And we can either end this or start this
Our engines burning, tired,
Cold
But never truly real.
They'd never have guessed this,
We'd never have attempted,
But I've always known,
Swept away with the wind.
The gore doesn't match your clothes
As we cut deeper into ourselves,
Closing into discovery,
But no one ever knows.