|
Trapped inside this dark and narrow mind |
|
Far from the outside |
|
If I could stand beside myself |
|
And see what you see |
|
Left alone high upon a shelf |
|
Dust collects on things discarded |
|
I retreat while the world passes by |
|
Scars to justify |
|
Am I a fixture in time and place? |
|
As our old promises fade |
|
Like the paintings we see everyday |
|
That hang in decay |
|
So the familiar feeds neglect |
|
Too plain to perceive |
|
My finger points to my demise |
|
But three point back at me to my surprise |
|
All the same I'm a fixture in time and place |
|
As our old promises fade |
|
Like the paintings we see everyday |
|
That hang in decay |
|
So the familiar feeds neglect |
|
Red and blue pale to black and white |
|
Images live and speak a thousand words |
|
In solitude clouds grace the tranquil sky |
|
Sense the calm sighing in pain |
|
I'm a fixture in time and place |
|
As our old promises fade |
|
Like the paintings we see everyday |
|
That hang in decay |
|
So the familiar feeds neglect |
|
Simply too plain to perceive |
|
Color drains from the scenery |
|
When routine courts apathy |
