(0264) frozen in motion
you're trying to live inside this world, and i can only watch you as the gravity connects my feet to an underground view of distant hues. feel like i've checked out long ago and like my face is made of sand. there's a picture i can't delete because it's attached to me like my hands.
reasoning not being shallow, but my vacancy remains. box of crayons can't help me out, and your ghost drives me insane. words and numbers keep me busy. i push the thread inside the needle. this new direction will make you disappear. this will be a movie designed with no pointless sequel.
snap the wires. cut the cords. i will not be looking back. in time, we'll all get old and reminisce about the days that never last. i've seen that look upon your face; it reminded me of my creeping death. the cavities within my brain could never hold the beauty of a breath.
the motion has me frozen, and the lack of emotions has me trapped inside an ocean of dead bodies where the music is not heard in the right context of time. i might struggle. i might flail about and give up altogether, but i'll try my best to not let other people notice the bad weather.
take a mental train, and i'll meet you at a station in the center of the universe. my disease spreads into the trees of patience, and i can barely wait until i'm six feet under earth. i'm just being cynical. it's a pretty horrible trait to have, but i can barely fall asleep with the radiance of the world tearing through those trees like wind inside my head.
reasoning not being shallow, but my vacancy remains. box of crayons can't help me out, and your ghost drives me insane. words and numbers keep me busy. i push the thread inside the needle. this new direction will make you disappear. this will be a movie designed with no pointless sequel.
snap the wires. cut the cords. i will not be looking back. in time, we'll all get old and reminisce about the days that never last. i've seen that look upon your face; it reminded me of my creeping death. the cavities within my brain could never hold the beauty of a breath.
the motion has me frozen, and the lack of emotions has me trapped inside an ocean of dead bodies where the music is not heard in the right context of time. i might struggle. i might flail about and give up altogether, but i'll try my best to not let other people notice the bad weather.
take a mental train, and i'll meet you at a station in the center of the universe. my disease spreads into the trees of patience, and i can barely wait until i'm six feet under earth. i'm just being cynical. it's a pretty horrible trait to have, but i can barely fall asleep with the radiance of the world tearing through those trees like wind inside my head.
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