Seems I've already been here before, searching endlessly in a void A man trapped by the eyes of those who still see a boy
I guess I'm still yet to grow
There's an echo bouncing off the wall; back and forth Swinging by, and whispering a sweet lie; it could be the monsters, or just the voices in my head
Either way, none of those sounds playing, leaves me feeling a little bit scared
I should say a prayer, but I've preyed on so much precious time, I'm only left chasing the few seconds I have left While being stuck in between an acute happiness, and all the feelings of being depressed
There isn't an angle to explain how loudly I want to scream at people's faces Describing the colours of their aura, mostly in their displaying hatred
But then again, it may come out a little racist
I've come to find myself writing love letters to the dark
And the result:
the ugliness of the morning to see such a beauty, of my dark art
...bite your tongue, as there are no other words to speak of this