Reality rose like the sun, and still i slept through it
"I can always witness it another morning"
The thoughts like thse are cemented in procarastination
Now this part of "she" is liquid form somwher on the floor,
as a self defiant need for a cure
Diagnosed to emerge and roam away from roads thick as foam
you wish to burn the candles that queitly service the arm
another day with the shades pulled down until the swallow returns her to sleep
A father knocks on the silent door while this part of "she" has become an inferno shame,
louder than we expect from shuch silent candles no so secret anymore
Now the eyes of my eyes have opened
Now the eyes of my eyes cling dear
Never let the swallow return you back to sleep
The smell of wounds have left you bug-bitten here,
and again i know reality shall rise tommorow
This time i hope to be awake, for i cannot postpone another morning
Never let the swallow return you to sleep