Forget me for another day
You’ve done it all the same
Winds keep passing through my soul
Cold here for another day
Feels like it’s falling through
A dog keeps barking on
What window do you stand looking through
Sunday means nothing to me now
Forget me for another day.
I’m not Gothic, but I’m made for the edge
I sharpen my pencils with one long steel blade
And whisper in darkness to ghosts running around.
There’s still time for me to walk away,
A path where shrunken skulls remind me
Of voices necromancy.
I’m not here for anything but tea, kind Sir,
Help me bring silence
In this sea of raindrops dragging
For my pencils and warm tea.
This is my sadness I feel like consuming:
Lost inwardly to a plethora of you,
Consumed as if I’m already tired,
Laying waste to an already drawn out barren
That holds my innards wrapped in steel bars…
Not enough to assault me,
But never again shall I move without thy affliction
Tormenting each beat of my soul
Whence I grieve like the eagle cries
Far above thy head that slowly nods
As thy sadness invades.