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Nov 2011
You like me better when inebriated
You want me; flying high
Lost all sense of inhibitions
But with truth and sobriety
Comes silence and disregard
Misunderstood
Timeless lack of knowing
Always running circles
Around your silly empty head
Searching for some way out
To escape

I think you want to feel
But rather numbing simple accessibility
Trumps all other efforts of freedom
And of chance
To know how
To feel
To understand and to be understood
Flying high, blind in all sublime numbness

Terrified to love what is so painless
To accept as is
Never questioning purpose or potential
It is all lost; flying high

No love to lose
No chance to gain
No mind to cherish
No one else to blame

Silent nights
You think of another
But you end up the fool
No one will answer
Your words
Just flying high
Becky Gold
Written by
Becky Gold
699
   Chanel McCartney
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