(0156) raking in your dead leaves
i see your ghost. it is standing in fear. bristling anger with a canvas of tears. and only in your reflections you'll find some sense of yourself within a blanket of time.
so pull all your shadows with you wherever you go. and i will be laughing with my face in the snow. only in my own bed can i find some sense of relief from the trappings of time.
emptiness comes with a spoon of regret... and on my twenty-third birthday, will i already forget whose standing next to me and who could care less? so raise up your hands. it's already begun. your fortunate eyes staring right through the sun. as the last shooting star falls out through your hands. but i've known for so long that the future depends on the medicine and milking of one who is lost in the poems of silence; fleeting memories of youth. raking in your dead leaves and dissolving the fog. if you only had known for a second or two that my failures were worse when the needle pushed through. and the answers we had were divided and kept. but the common remainders floated away as i slept.
destiny pulls in the oddest of ways. all their secrets revealed on the back of the page... and i gave you a hint of the coming collapse. but you were too drunk to notice so i drove all the way back. and in the back of my mind, i knew exactly where i was. too afraid to agree with my heart... while the restless were not moving and the innocent were hung; while the rivers weren't flowing and the hymns weren't being sung.
send me to bed. there's no reason to move. i have nothing left and my hands have grown cold. the whole world has come screeching to a halt. and i am standing alone as he crawls over the edge of the cliff while we're both patiently waiting for all the stars to burn away and for the earth to shift.
so pull all your shadows with you wherever you go. and i will be laughing with my face in the snow. only in my own bed can i find some sense of relief from the trappings of time.
emptiness comes with a spoon of regret... and on my twenty-third birthday, will i already forget whose standing next to me and who could care less? so raise up your hands. it's already begun. your fortunate eyes staring right through the sun. as the last shooting star falls out through your hands. but i've known for so long that the future depends on the medicine and milking of one who is lost in the poems of silence; fleeting memories of youth. raking in your dead leaves and dissolving the fog. if you only had known for a second or two that my failures were worse when the needle pushed through. and the answers we had were divided and kept. but the common remainders floated away as i slept.
destiny pulls in the oddest of ways. all their secrets revealed on the back of the page... and i gave you a hint of the coming collapse. but you were too drunk to notice so i drove all the way back. and in the back of my mind, i knew exactly where i was. too afraid to agree with my heart... while the restless were not moving and the innocent were hung; while the rivers weren't flowing and the hymns weren't being sung.
send me to bed. there's no reason to move. i have nothing left and my hands have grown cold. the whole world has come screeching to a halt. and i am standing alone as he crawls over the edge of the cliff while we're both patiently waiting for all the stars to burn away and for the earth to shift.
