Clay
Stressed, sick, in need of sedation
Finding it hard to feel positive sensation
My thoughts wander, my heart fades... Dies
Without you, it's torture, my soul quietly cries
Yet you enter the room, something is shaken
Feeling more alive, my happiness stirs, it has awakened
In your presence again I am one... I am alive
Though once you are dismissed, withering I am deprived
I seep deeper into the madness of my depression
It grows with fury, the thorns of aggression
One day with all of my insanity I will fade away
While riding into the dusk, on my winged horse made of clay...
|