sallekhana
Well-known member
maybe i'm just looking for
a newlywed in a graveyard
or maybe i'm just buying land
to give reasons for a postcard,
i'm presently dying in the past
cause the future's not worth the grief.
killing days from a glass
till i'm too torn to sleep.
we trap ourselves in our own cars
and let the smoke burn out our eyes
too shy to go into the party,
too scared to live out the night.
but we're all searching for homes
and we're all broke and alone,
looking for someone to show
that we can somehow belong.
staying in the shadow of a doubt
away from all the smiles i see,
never thinking to come out
to all the faces i want to be.
you're a puddle stagnet in closure
depending on others to set you in motion,
painting on a new skin everyday
to hide the fireworks that wont display
an explosion of emotion.
you're not as composed as you appear.
like a childish poem,
like a childish fear.
whats the point in changing skin
or opening and letting in?
its just a costume you try on at night
to make yourself feel more alive
and convince yourself
you're better off being someone else,
staying attached to all thats let you go
staying attached to all that you wont know.
some say the smoke is what i hide
some say i smoke too much,
truth is, its what i hide behind,
truth is, its all that i've got.
i can still hope for whats better,
something burried in the future,
like in a garden in the winter
digging deep to save the roots.
a newlywed in a graveyard
or maybe i'm just buying land
to give reasons for a postcard,
i'm presently dying in the past
cause the future's not worth the grief.
killing days from a glass
till i'm too torn to sleep.
we trap ourselves in our own cars
and let the smoke burn out our eyes
too shy to go into the party,
too scared to live out the night.
but we're all searching for homes
and we're all broke and alone,
looking for someone to show
that we can somehow belong.
staying in the shadow of a doubt
away from all the smiles i see,
never thinking to come out
to all the faces i want to be.
you're a puddle stagnet in closure
depending on others to set you in motion,
painting on a new skin everyday
to hide the fireworks that wont display
an explosion of emotion.
you're not as composed as you appear.
like a childish poem,
like a childish fear.
whats the point in changing skin
or opening and letting in?
its just a costume you try on at night
to make yourself feel more alive
and convince yourself
you're better off being someone else,
staying attached to all thats let you go
staying attached to all that you wont know.
some say the smoke is what i hide
some say i smoke too much,
truth is, its what i hide behind,
truth is, its all that i've got.
i can still hope for whats better,
something burried in the future,
like in a garden in the winter
digging deep to save the roots.