Post by paintedmusic on Jun 13, 2008 16:58:00 GMT -5
drowning in memories
6/1/08
they’re like mocking fairytales—those old photos
in your album, the ones Mom and Dad put together
for you—to keep you from falling apart
to help you remember who you are
because with that cigarette smoke framing your face,
you seem to have forgotten
you take a drag and close your eyes, insides screaming
i don’t know, i don’t know! what do you want from me?
page after page
of a smiling stranger dancingtwirlinglaughingloving
emblazoned in your mind as you
drown
in the cruel memories
blankly you stare at the glow of your cigarette
don’t walk towards the light!
while you think: it’s already too late for that, baby
because holding fire between your fingertips—now
that is power, isn’t it.
captivating, infatuating, and oh, i just can’t look away.
(pyromaniac, you hear them sneer,
but who really gives a d**n, so long as you get your fix)
looking at those pictures brings back memories long ago buried
long ago drowned (and that’s just where you’re headed,
isn’t it.)
but the cigarette makes everything fuzzy, and
the alcohol blocks the sharpest of the pain, and really
what more can you ask for in this hell?
so you flick your lighter beneath the album
and watch those pictures b u r n
and resolve to forget—because it’s the only way to survive anymore
you take another drag, close your eyes
it’s almost over, you promise yourself, almost over.
6/1/08
they’re like mocking fairytales—those old photos
in your album, the ones Mom and Dad put together
for you—to keep you from falling apart
to help you remember who you are
because with that cigarette smoke framing your face,
you seem to have forgotten
you take a drag and close your eyes, insides screaming
i don’t know, i don’t know! what do you want from me?
page after page
of a smiling stranger dancingtwirlinglaughingloving
emblazoned in your mind as you
drown
in the cruel memories
blankly you stare at the glow of your cigarette
don’t walk towards the light!
while you think: it’s already too late for that, baby
because holding fire between your fingertips—now
that is power, isn’t it.
captivating, infatuating, and oh, i just can’t look away.
(pyromaniac, you hear them sneer,
but who really gives a d**n, so long as you get your fix)
looking at those pictures brings back memories long ago buried
long ago drowned (and that’s just where you’re headed,
isn’t it.)
but the cigarette makes everything fuzzy, and
the alcohol blocks the sharpest of the pain, and really
what more can you ask for in this hell?
so you flick your lighter beneath the album
and watch those pictures b u r n
and resolve to forget—because it’s the only way to survive anymore
you take another drag, close your eyes
it’s almost over, you promise yourself, almost over.
