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I'll bury my downcast hours in transparent ink,
tie myself to the mast and wait here for the ship to sink
Though I know I've set sail on a wishing well
the daylight is dimming out slowly with every breath I take,
gasps of air become roaring rivers keeping me awake
It gives one no time to think things through.
I know words always come before you do,
but I can't find no poetry left in these lines
I've been trying too hard, too long, too many times
Is this what a biochemist would call happiness?
Is it part of some unmade promise I thought I could forget?
Is it time that I let some air come through?
For now strangling love is all I can do.
Yeah, I know you have mountains of poems in mind,
all explaining how all wounds will heal given time
But these days are no longer my time to spill,
and I know that by waiting, I'll make them stand still
I kept it as close as I could through through those winter nights,
but the ropes only tightened 'round me as I tried to fight
There's no worth throwing stone in a wishing well
Now I'm out of black ink and I know it's all poetry,
know they're just lies,
but I still scavenge on what I find in between those lines
I'll pretend there was happiness, fake to have felt pain
just to feel there's a reason to read it again ...