If life was but a game
I might as well be entertained
But the masses of ******** stand out
Reluctantly,
I leave my thoughts to be someone it seems only you want me to be
An unbound book bound to the shelf
To see what is calling me
Is it just another confused memory?
You ****** me over and gave me every key i'd need
To make up the tale that love exists inside of meeeeee.
A whispered call to distant dreams
They have been wasted,
And where the pitch-black aisles of forest's night had hid eternal things,
My inspiration had run dry,
The moon is floating in the sky's dark lap.
Pale scrapings of people as far as the eye can see.
More excuses than imaginable
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 12:51 AM UTC
If life was but a game
I might as well be entertained
But the masses of ******** stand out
Reluctantly,
I leave my thoughts to be someone it seems only you want me to be
An unbound book bound to the shelf
To see what is calling me
Is it just another confused memory?
You ****** me over and gave me every key i'd need
To make up the tale that love exists inside of meeeeee.
A whispered call to distant dreams
They have been wasted,
And where the pitch-black aisles of forest's night had hid eternal things,
My inspiration had run dry,
The moon is floating in the sky's dark lap.
Pale scrapings of people as far as the eye can see.
More excuses than imaginable
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