The music singes my soul
but it doesn't burn me out
burn me out now
I'm so lost inside my head
[just like the words
that beg for wings
and wish to fly away
but these head strings
wind them tight
and trapped they remain]
and dead flowers slip into my head
and its raining inside
its like the summer song
that melts the winter away
and its always raining
but it doesn't wash me out
..wash away the fragments
of the me I've never seen..
of the me I've always been..
I'm so lost inside my head
the dead flowers smell of rain
the summer and the pain
the snowflakes and the clouds
and the music
are all illusions
are they illusions?
and they spin along
with my head
i dint like this roundabout
wash me over
burn me out
just let me down this roundabout
and i will never try
to step into the mirror
and i wont ever try to
look at me again
..................................................
i wish i could just
let all the words fly away
with pieces of myself
i never found
but these head strings
wind them tight
and keep them trapped.
