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 Grandeur Of Melancholy

Along The Way

Along the way….
my emotions went numb.
By your talk. The losing touch.

It all seemed like it was over,
always was the rough stuff. That we look with empty eyes.
To look in wonder. We see life and could just die.

Never good enough. Then again…I brush the dust off.
To see a something hiding in the dirt.

I leave this mark. I couldn't tell, of strange bends
and odd hues.
Lost in hope. In what could be.
I can't not fathom your misery.

Your comets cold, in violet hues sing the wonder out of tune.
Nothing a thing we are lost.
Yet still it ticks away like my miles gone.
That we look and find a fragment.
Of all that designed that space to wander.
Into my hands to ponder.

Yet nothing of a thing to keep you here.
It's always been my drear.

This room I have kept all these things, matters that
seem alien or foreign. They stir up my curiosity and I see the sparkle.
When others see lime.

That in the sun,
dreaming never focusing.
Reality seems to obtuse it surrounds me many ways
To go back home, but it is to that room.
Where I collect my eye wild with excitement.
As I brush away the dust from the artifact.

Never ever do you see, the retrogression came
and went like a blade. Now I feel tame and out in blues,
Even with you. I'm sorry but I'm insane. I feel more close.
To dirt then your flesh I've always though that odd.
Yet you never minded that, and you enjoyed along.

My position is manic and capturing fireflies is not a task.
Sultry comes bluest pain, radar scopes me up.
I feel it's all in vain, neurotic insane.

Disconnected, my mind on streams off bender
I'm losing my dream, grip on reality is slain.
Slain before it's pain.
Along the way I lost my bliss in this fantasy
You carved it in my chest.
Now I will always be second best.
By your loneliness, I take the blame.
That fault is all your own, a God too great to behold.
We are causes of our own misery.

Falling for a loser's voice.
Safe deny can't hold on I'm crying tonight.
It seem like it was always a waste of time.
This hell we create is our own.

When I think about my chances do they come
And bite you in the ass.
Never ever do I see clearly.
That the pathos here is burning.

The hope is on fire, the antiquated desire.
For the dreams that hang higher.
The life under stage fright.

I am a doll, going insane with so many to play.
I lose my place.
Along the way I lost my face.
This highway that we drive in 3 Am silence is more alive then you think.

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