it's late
cant sleep
beautiful day
day of getting by
and keep the devils out
in the far corners of the carpet (swept under)
getting by, with a little help from friends (and the spririts)
but now the golden sunlight has faded
and the wind howls as loud as a giant
and trees rustle like frightened deer
and bizzarely, all the geese have walked away from the loch
and stalked across the meadow
all the way home
hello geese
but now i cant sleep
dead-end dreams
and most of all
the humiliation of being
and the emptiness of the emptiness
unlike what they say, i think,
to have never loved at all, would be one thing
but loved and lost, and still hopelessly love
buidling castles of lies and delusions
that makes a man, a giant, melt like a sugar doll
in a bowl of rum
to to watch, just breaks your heart
dont cry baby, baby please dont cry
but its not me you want, is it, got me or not
and where trhe fuck would i find you another her?
i can hit record
and replay though
turn around your prophesies
i love irony
the blade in skin irony
the warm soft blood irony
does the iron in the blood ever rust?
but outside the wind rustles
never loud enought to drown the thoughts

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