This tragic tragic display leaves me right where I want to be
There's no lake for a vision or no birds to tell us the storm will come
The battered fawn with nothing to lose is just as powerful as a lion fighting for his den
When at any given instinct emotions can run so deep and gore at anything with a face
And escape is but a dream in your present nightmare, bound down and gagged
This isn't what's deserved
and this is all we have
And this is all we know I know you've tried explaining it to me
But it's blocked out by my misery
Now if what you say is true, then this would mean the whole d*** thing
is as subtle as a gun to the head
In due time
In due time
Tomorrow wrote a message
(With your message)
For the springtime
And if pencil is to led, as abuse is to the bullet
The next tree stump might be a overdue solitude
As to the boy and the girl who drift apart like shingles
From a rooftop which has lived many stories before us
A life's work can be anything but complete until someone reads
And if a tree falls in the middle of the ocean would the fish keep its secret
Or will they spill their guts, tonight.
And we slow down enough to breath in what we became that night in the woods
Just rip the pages that make up my intentions, this one's for you.
Traced out body with a fine wine taste washed down and out to be made delicious
Such a weak day for nature when the dear has to make sweet sweet revenge
How long can we go until forgiveness is just a black and white song?
I will miss the colors if you do.
There's no lake for a vision or no birds to tell us the storm will come
The battered fawn with nothing to lose is just as powerful as a lion fighting for his den
When at any given instinct emotions can run so deep and gore at anything with a face
And escape is but a dream in your present nightmare, bound down and gagged
This isn't what's deserved
and this is all we have
And this is all we know I know you've tried explaining it to me
But it's blocked out by my misery
Now if what you say is true, then this would mean the whole d*** thing
is as subtle as a gun to the head
In due time
In due time
Tomorrow wrote a message
(With your message)
For the springtime
And if pencil is to led, as abuse is to the bullet
The next tree stump might be a overdue solitude
As to the boy and the girl who drift apart like shingles
From a rooftop which has lived many stories before us
A life's work can be anything but complete until someone reads
And if a tree falls in the middle of the ocean would the fish keep its secret
Or will they spill their guts, tonight.
And we slow down enough to breath in what we became that night in the woods
Just rip the pages that make up my intentions, this one's for you.
Traced out body with a fine wine taste washed down and out to be made delicious
Such a weak day for nature when the dear has to make sweet sweet revenge
How long can we go until forgiveness is just a black and white song?
I will miss the colors if you do.