Spill some wine on the season--
He's walking home at 1 am
And full of well gin and reasons
for both staying and leaving
and dripping orange lamplight
He thinks he'll try and dry out
(sure)
Try sinking in ideas and a couch
on his back lawn
Same old thoughts just circle
overhead in lazy patterns
Synced with beats made by cars passing
on the street at 2 am.
It's a passion play he's caught in
Passing days with failing stances
Whilst the nights keep passing faster
into blue-black blurs like bruises.
Open lids to empty coffins
With those thoughts' befuddled movements
--And he's introduced again
And it gets a little lonely
sitting on that couch with only
empty bottles and neuroses
for to break that pattern up
with another worn out pattern--
For to keep him in cold company.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 11:43 AM UTC
Spill some wine on the season--
He's walking home at 1 am
And full of well gin and reasons
for both staying and leaving
and dripping orange lamplight
He thinks he'll try and dry out
(sure)
Try sinking in ideas and a couch
on his back lawn
Same old thoughts just circle
overhead in lazy patterns
Synced with beats made by cars passing
on the street at 2 am.
It's a passion play he's caught in
Passing days with failing stances
Whilst the nights keep passing faster
into blue-black blurs like bruises.
Open lids to empty coffins
With those thoughts' befuddled movements
--And he's introduced again
And it gets a little lonely
sitting on that couch with only
empty bottles and neuroses
for to break that pattern up
with another worn out pattern--
For to keep him in cold company.
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