I choose a nail, pitted and black, made from darker dreams.
I drive it home with my hammer, that's made of shaking screams.
I took another and looked closely, it bore the name of my enemy.
I drove it in with a crooked grin, into the flesh of infinity.
And now for the jagged one I call sorrow, that I fashioned myself.
I drove it deep, between lack of sleep, and my heart upon a shelf.
This one in my trembling fingers, it reminds me of how you cried.
When I hit it with the hammer, a part of me withered and died.
One by one I drive these nails, while my pulse is droppin.
With grinding teeth I sink my blame into the lid of my own coffin.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
I choose a nail, pitted and black, made from darker dreams.
I drive it home with my hammer, that's made of shaking screams.
I took another and looked closely, it bore the name of my enemy.
I drove it in with a crooked grin, into the flesh of infinity.
And now for the jagged one I call sorrow, that I fashioned myself.
I drove it deep, between lack of sleep, and my heart upon a shelf.
This one in my trembling fingers, it reminds me of how you cried.
When I hit it with the hammer, a part of me withered and died.
One by one I drive these nails, while my pulse is droppin.
With grinding teeth I sink my blame into the lid of my own coffin.
