I cant think of anything to write. Stream of conciousness. Yay.
Sweet smells and worn knees
From hours of bending
What the hell is wrong with you?
Calloused fingers play away
You’re showing off again
You’re apologies were shot to hell
Time after time after time
You’re screaming louder than the rest
But I don’t miss your voice one bit
Well I’ve got my hands clasp for the last time
And I know I won’t have a chance to tell you again
Time healed all the wounds it could
But I’m still injured and looking for closure
I use you like a bad excuse
What did you expect me to do?
It’s all a masquerade
A god without believers
And on that day, they poke around
I’ll raise my hand and run down
Aisle by aisle screaming
Jesus save me one more time!
I’m screaming louder than the rest
But He won’t speak until I’m quiet
Well I’ve got my hands clasp for the last time
And I know I won’t have a chance to tell you again
Time healed all the wounds it could
But I’m still injured and looking for closure
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2 comments:
that was stream of consciousness? i think i'd like to live inside your head and see what other amazing things you have in there!
i like reading your blog too! and painting with you. i'm glad we have these things in common.
you are amazing.
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