Of course you did it!
Why didn't I believe it sooner?
You treated me like ****,
Do you treat her that way too? Or do you spoon her?
You better be feelin' that remorse,
It'll come your path,
But if it doesn't fit your course,
You know you'll feel the wrath.

Someone call the Doctor,
because something’s amiss.
The darkness descended,
and there’s just the abyss.

Tell him, that maybe,
a paradox formed.
That up, is now right,
and that demons have swarmed.

Tell him, please tell him,
that we need the blue box.
We need his courage,
to turn back the clock.

I know the moment,
the exact time it went wrong,
but I can’t do it alone,
I’ve done that too long.

If we just had the Doctor,
we could set things to right.
We could change that moment,
and bring back the light.

I know he’s not coming,
and that he’s not real.
It’s just wishful writing,
to push back my fears.

A hero, a savior,
someone who knows all.
Someone who isn’t me,
that could stop the slow fall.

A blue box, a Doctor,
a moment in time.
A villain, so empty,
writing silly rhymes.

A paradox, truly,
that doesn’t make sense.
Can a villain turn hero,
if he shows recompense?

I guess we shall see,
but I won’t hold my breath.
I’ll wait for the Doctor,
or I’ll just wait for Death.

i walk through this desolate place of
death,
remorse,
ruined love,
and regret.

i eye the gravestones—
the words etched into the marble.

i eye the faceless words
staring back at me.

i look at the flowers—
empty promises of remembrance and once-lived love.

i look at the flowers—
some wilted and dying.

the huge trees overshadowing me,
i feel lost in this cemetery.

i look to the stones in the area for people who have been cremated—
reminders of love, life, and existence burned into a million ashes.

i feel the presence of all the death.
i feel it sinking into me.




i wonder when i’ll join them?

Despite myself I find myself,
Thinking about you again,
You don’t make sense to me,
But the rhythm of your thoughts are predictable now,
Someday will never come,
And my dear,
Someday we'll be together again,
Perhaps I say that just to leave you happy,
To leave you in power,
Because I can sustain most damage,
Or at least I've yet to meet my maker,
And maybe then I can play the victim,
And maybe then that means I think you are fragile,
And maybe then I'm a cowered,
And maybe then I’m a sexist,
But I can’t control why or what,
With you
With you,
Never again.

When the moth no longer meditates on the cloth
When the fish fails to flit when it’s caught
When the calling crickets lose the will to whip up noise
When the eagle’s eagerness is evaporated along with poise
When all of nature neglects itself, adrift on its track
You’ll know for sure those feelings aren’t coming back

"Un hombre gris avanza por la calle de niebla,
no lo sospecha nadie. Es un cuerpo vacío;
vacío como pampa, como mar, como viento,
desiertos tan amargos bajo un cielo implacable.

Es el tiempo pasado, y sus alas ahora
entre la sombra encuentran una pálida fuerza;
es el remordimiento, que de noche, dudando;
en secreto se aproxima su sombra descuidada.

No estrechéis esa mano. La yedra altivamente
ascenderá cubriendo los troncos de invierno.
Invisible en la calma el hombre gris camina.
¿No sentís a los muertos? Mas la tierra esta sorda."

La tierra está sorda y no oye,
no oye a los muertos llamando por ella;
por ella que les ha dado tanto,
que les ha acogido cuando les exilió la vida.

La vida desentendida camina por los campos de trigo
cuando le cae la noche, le cae la niebla
y su camino se cruza con el andante implacable,
el andante que es sombra, el andante vacío.

Con la mirada aún feliz estrecha su mano,
y la yedra altiva asciende cubriendo los troncos del invierno.
Sus manos estrechadas los cuerpos se vacían.
¿No sentís a los muertos? Mas la tierra está sorda

//

"A grey man passes through the streer of fog,
nobody suspects of him. He is an empty body;
empty like pampas, like sea, like wind,
deserts so bitter under an unstoppable sky.

He is the past time, and his winds now
in the shadow find a palid strength;
he is remorse, whom at night, doubting;
in secret aproaches his neglected shadow.

Don't shake that hand. The climbing plant proudly
will ascend covering the trunks of winter.
Invisible in calm the gray man walks.
Don't you feel the dead? But the earth is deaf."

The earth is deaf and she can't hear,
she can't hear the dead calling for her;
for her who has given them so much,
who has welcomed them when life exiled them.

Life without noticing walks on the wheat fields
when night falls on her, fog falls on her,
and her path crosses with the unstoppable walker,
the walker who is shadow, the empty walker.

With her view still happy she shakes his hand,
and the climbing plant proudly ascends covering the trunks of winter.
Their hands shaken the bodies empty.
¿Don't you feel the dead? But the earth is deaf.

And now I can get over you the way I should have
Knowing I didn’t do all that I could have
Now I can wallow in regret
Cause my ego had done nothing but bring me dread.
Remorse.
It’s my own fault my hearts so coarse
Now you have two daughters with her
For better
For worse
This whole time I thought I was cursed
But I was just getting ready to ride the hearse
In a hurry to be buried
I’ve done my worse
This is all new
This part ain’t rehearsed  
You went from not even crossing my mind
To being  featured in my verse
It hit me like a ton of bricks
I hope this feeling
Ain’t the type that sticks

If my man finds out
He’ll have a fit
He’ll pick a corner for me to sit
Like a piece of furniture
But I guess this is what I get..