> The Darkener's Console

Bloodstains and deep scratches (perhaps made by an axe) mar the walls.

Broken Record —

A broken record // Says nothing new // Skips back and forth // I’m wasting my time

//

This broken record // Is nothing new // Flips back and forth // I’m sorry it’s mine

//

Cut the power // Tables won’t stop turning // Break the shower // These seasons keep churning

//

Wilt the flower // I’m sick of your concerning // Jump the towers // Endless loop keeps returning

//

You can’t stop

You don’t see

What I see

//

This won’t stop

You only believe

One, two, three

//

You can’t stop

You don’t see

What I see

//

This won’t stop

You only believe

One, two, three


Categorised as: Blogs | Lyrics, Poetry



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