Post by Graveyard Goddess on Jun 6, 2005 19:46:42 GMT -5
Counting down with dismal eyes, upon the floor— for eternity.
She counts her flaws yet once again.
The pulse is so consuming and the mind is only using— her forte in self destruction
To fabricate a machine.
Lost in a senseless nothing—Eyes close heavily
The sickness grows within
How it seems to taint the mind; and how it thickens the skin
Starting over; loosing count inside this disgrace.
There’s nothing to hold on to.
Turned inside out once more; her eyes trickle paper rain
Running down the surface of such gritty beauty;
And the more it rains, she sinks and drowns
When the beauty turns so ugly and so empty.
Silence is the barrier; as she tries to hide.
When she’s been injected with synthetic perfection—every soul will say she’s died.
The dream is way to far away to reach;
Since the sickness which invades, finds her masque, to evade
When there is nothing to hold on to.
And they give her some anesthesia; so she cannot feel a thing
They stitch her mouth—so in control
They know, that she will never tell
And both she and her reflection do everything they can
To gather all the broken thoughts and become whole again
She’d shed it all away; to revive what she had lost
The self-inflicted surgery; from her brain-washed company
Reflecting her same lonely gaze
Dead yet living inside her mind
Covet this love of finding wrongs, and living behind— such dismal eyes
And when the pressure digs so deep—it amplified affliction’s drive,
And the automation has become, her cremated mind—<br>Look at what she’s done
She’s become so numb inside.
Withered and destroyed by her shadow’s conceit
Looking at her reflection; they will say that she has died
She counts her flaws yet once again.
The pulse is so consuming and the mind is only using— her forte in self destruction
To fabricate a machine.
Lost in a senseless nothing—Eyes close heavily
The sickness grows within
How it seems to taint the mind; and how it thickens the skin
Starting over; loosing count inside this disgrace.
There’s nothing to hold on to.
Turned inside out once more; her eyes trickle paper rain
Running down the surface of such gritty beauty;
And the more it rains, she sinks and drowns
When the beauty turns so ugly and so empty.
Silence is the barrier; as she tries to hide.
When she’s been injected with synthetic perfection—every soul will say she’s died.
The dream is way to far away to reach;
Since the sickness which invades, finds her masque, to evade
When there is nothing to hold on to.
And they give her some anesthesia; so she cannot feel a thing
They stitch her mouth—so in control
They know, that she will never tell
And both she and her reflection do everything they can
To gather all the broken thoughts and become whole again
She’d shed it all away; to revive what she had lost
The self-inflicted surgery; from her brain-washed company
Reflecting her same lonely gaze
Dead yet living inside her mind
Covet this love of finding wrongs, and living behind— such dismal eyes
And when the pressure digs so deep—it amplified affliction’s drive,
And the automation has become, her cremated mind—<br>Look at what she’s done
She’s become so numb inside.
Withered and destroyed by her shadow’s conceit
Looking at her reflection; they will say that she has died
