|
Echoes start as a cross in you, |
|
Trembling noises that come to soon. |
|
Spatial movement which seems to you, |
|
Resonating your mask or feud. |
|
Hollow talking and hollow girl, |
|
Force it up from the root of pain. |
|
Never said it was good, never said it was near, |
|
Shadow rises and you are here. |
|
And then you cut; |
|
You cut it out, |
|
And everything |
|
Goes back to the beginning. |
|
Silence seizes a cluttered room, |
|
Light is shed not a breath too soon. |
|
Darkness rises in all you do, |
|
Standing and drawn across the room. |
|
Spatial movements are butterflies |
|
Shadows scatter without a fire. |
|
There's never been bad, there has always been truth, |
|
Muted whisper of the things she'll move. |
|
And then you cut; |
|
You cut it out. |
|
And everything |
|
Goes back to the beginning. |
|
Never said it was good, never said it was new, |
|
Muted whisper of the things you feel. |
