TheTwighlight
Bluelighter
A More Difficult Equation
I'm tired of all these broken tiles
I'm sick of all the jagged lines
Turn back around and face the corner
Be ashamed of what you've lied
I'm in a fairy tale's land, covered in ice
Still as a rock, yet I still reside
As my head turns 'round and 'round and 'round
I see desert red skies, and flora/fauna on the ground
Too timid to STOP
Time flies, we'll take the skies
And cut them down
Block by block, inside a share stock
Rampant, twisted lock
Electric shock
Someone doesn't want to let us mock.
So they've made up words that I could never talk.
I walk to town like a telephone line
Digitized then disconnected
Virus!
Mainframe!
Infected!
Pull my plug
Pull my plug
One by one
"But you're my son"
Pull my plug
One by one
PeeringBrightLights
LOADED GUN
This must be how I ended up deep inside another cut
And now I'm in another rut
Washing down and cleaning up
Ain't it funny, buttercup?
How life throws down then pulls back up...
It's deceiving to the winterfellows
(the bells, the mills, the windowsills)
Naked thoughts cannot be found
I feel their presence in the bellows
(the time, the lime, a grave sits still)
Halfway home, I'm not around
I think they've let the panthers loose
I'd better make my move too soon...
Copyright 2005 - The Horsehead Nebula
I'm tired of all these broken tiles
I'm sick of all the jagged lines
Turn back around and face the corner
Be ashamed of what you've lied
I'm in a fairy tale's land, covered in ice
Still as a rock, yet I still reside
As my head turns 'round and 'round and 'round
I see desert red skies, and flora/fauna on the ground
Too timid to STOP
Time flies, we'll take the skies
And cut them down
Block by block, inside a share stock
Rampant, twisted lock
Electric shock
Someone doesn't want to let us mock.
So they've made up words that I could never talk.
I walk to town like a telephone line
Digitized then disconnected
Virus!
Mainframe!
Infected!
Pull my plug
Pull my plug
One by one
"But you're my son"
Pull my plug
One by one
PeeringBrightLights
LOADED GUN
This must be how I ended up deep inside another cut
And now I'm in another rut
Washing down and cleaning up
Ain't it funny, buttercup?
How life throws down then pulls back up...
It's deceiving to the winterfellows
(the bells, the mills, the windowsills)
Naked thoughts cannot be found
I feel their presence in the bellows
(the time, the lime, a grave sits still)
Halfway home, I'm not around
I think they've let the panthers loose
I'd better make my move too soon...
Copyright 2005 - The Horsehead Nebula
