Sculptors Hands
|
At work spreads thin Clay over frames
|
It’s just what he wanted flawless skin-deep deep eyes to look with
|
Mesmerize
|
In blank stare
|
He looks at his hands with hopeless fear as the clay crumbles down towards the earth
|
|
Bleed my thoughts on a picture that’s lost will you be mine
|
I locked the door that my trust is behind will you be mine
|
Just not at this time
|
|
Cracked smile waves
|
At the mirror tries to say
|
That light is now clearer with eyes that pity self-reflection
|
Throw away your movie tickets
|
Wash away your romance kisses
|
Collect the thoughts that keep it driven to be what I wanted to be
|
|
Bleed my thoughts on a picture that’s lost will you be mine
|
I locked the door that my trust is behind will you be mine
|
Just not at this time
|
|
My Berlin wall surrounds the town once again
|
The seas of fear from a hopeless man
|
And to rise to king it was only the plan can you see me
|
Can you read me
|
Can you feel my love story
|
|
Bleed my thoughts on a picture that’s lost will you be mine
|
I locked the door that my trust is behind will you be mine
|
Just not at this time
|
|
-----------------
|
Picture Of A Key
|
| Fighting Jacks |
