dirty walls surround me. plastered with grime and dust, motes and cobwebs. i've hidden all the dirt with memories; pictures on the walls, pictures of our times together... the hallways are adorned with framed flashbacks.
the room is full of shelves and desks. i am surrounded by equipment, slowly collecting specks of my dried, discarded flesh. so many buttons and knobs; i don't know what to do with them all.
the early morning sun streams in the window, and the dust does a dance, swaying in time to the heartbeat of my grimey little speakers.
this is where it all begins. i take all the feelings i have about you, and cut them up into little pieces of tone and concept. i craft a story from our dreams. it's dirty, but it's real.
i wiped it all clean and started again
whole new outlook, whole new trend
choking back the bitter aches
of love’s labour lost and past mistakes
i spent the morning in solitude
and you’d be here if you only knew
i can’t stand these empty halls
and it’s not that; it’s these dirty walls
you say i always complain
you don’t want to feel my pain
but I gave it away a while back
i didn’t need it anyway
the loneliness is a front
just a heartbroken stunt
and i’m not gonna let you go
this time...
i spent the better part of my years
picking up my falling tears
cleaning these dirty walls
leaving nothing behind
i wanted to give you everything
somehow, i lost hold of the dream
we’re just paupers in this land
of kings and queens
the loneliness is a crutch
because i love you so much
and i’m not gonna let you go
this time...
i ran the gamut and i thought
i thought i had it, and I fought
The final goal, the never-ending
kind...
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