“Red Autumn”

Three years bleeding by the bathroom sink
For a dream;
I still can’t count the times I tried
To wash you off with a drink.
There’s comfort in the carpet
Of brown leaves in my mind
As October approaches
And I die.

Three years shitting razor blades
And playing with ghosts;
I still can’t sleep without believing
You’ll come knock at my door.
There’s comfort in the smiling mask
I wear on my frowns
As you and this fucking Fall
Are slowly wearing me out.
And I’m so fine with it.

Three years looking for the words
That may fit these holes,
Three fucking years
And I’m still standing here
And begging for more.
Oh, all the things I shouldn’t say,
Those I shouldn’t have written
Though the scars in my soul
Are all but forgotten.

Blame it on the fucking moon
I see through your eyes;
And you’re the cross
I’m nailed to tonight.

Blame it on the red
This season paints in my days
And you’re the grave
And I am buried alive.

Blame it on the Autumn
I inject in my throat
‘Cause you’re the goddess
I’d be glad to die for.

Blame it on the timing,
Just blame it on me
‘Cause I’m the god
Of the words
Left unsaid.

Photo by Craig Adderley on Pexels.com


This site is under manintenance.

Sito con tecnologia WordPress.com.

%d blogger hanno fatto clic su Mi Piace per questo: