It's almost humorous to me
that while my ship's mast is going under...
Nightmares of broken butterflies
Wings torn, their voices faint lullabies...
Black cannot be turned to white,
Not even a dull shade of grey...
This is the dark dawn, the stars still hanging on...
Swaying slightly in the breeze, pulling the tides...
Maybe one of you lovelies could tell me what this...
Now...
What if our dreams are but imagined
and our nightmares always real...
It's funny how you screamed it
when you were trying to hate me...
Don't tell me I'm stupid
That I should just shut my mouth...
Your chest is a carcass
able to hide...
Melancholy pondering thoughts of my mistrust.
Your the one who will die, though a death unjust...
Topsy Turvy
Spinny words...
Y does it go on like this
y does one get it back...