| poetry 205 |
[Oct. 11th, 2009|09:39 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  amused | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Scarecrow - Beck | ] |
There's a bitter taste on your tongue
When the commission comes you'll be forced to run
When the strange decisions make up what you don't want to be anymore
There's a deranged precision to what you really are
The only way one can know
Is to separate the days from the night
To understand what we've done that's right
You know that the penetrating look the eyes give
Isn't always a sign of forgiveness
Just stay relentless in your efforts
Don't forget where you stand
There is always a ghost who simply holds your hand
And you try to let it go but you can't |
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