I see a shifting pen
Writing the tears of dead men
And I sit and ask
Will I come home and when
Oh look its way past ten
Don't look at the moon anymore
No longer does it glisten
Don't scold yourself anymore
It ain't like you will listen
So just give up then?
But I couldn't if I wanted to
Stuck between die and do
Dread starting to brew
Oh
You never touched the pen
You never read the words
Could've seen a sky
Maybe it would've shone
Could've been high and fly
Maybe then I could atone
But I lay alone
On a solitary stone
Within my own cone
Living life on a loan
How did it take upon such a grim tone
Apr 11, 2025
Apr 11, 2025 at 6:27 AM UTC
I see a shifting pen
Writing the tears of dead men
And I sit and ask
Will I come home and when
Oh look its way past ten
Don't look at the moon anymore
No longer does it glisten
Don't scold yourself anymore
It ain't like you will listen
So just give up then?
But I couldn't if I wanted to
Stuck between die and do
Dread starting to brew
Oh
You never touched the pen
You never read the words
Could've seen a sky
Maybe it would've shone
Could've been high and fly
Maybe then I could atone
But I lay alone
On a solitary stone
Within my own cone
Living life on a loan
How did it take upon such a grim tone
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