namkcuR
ONE love, blood, life
This might make no sense to you. It might make a lot. Make what you will of it.
here we are, here we are
walking, looking around, the house
brushing off the dust
and we are not sure
the feeling within this place
is that of love, or that of lust
this home, this capsule of our lives
could it really be that great
or is it merely a sentimentality
a hook for us to hold on to
another item in the attic of my memories
flashback, here we are again
within the remnants of a childhood left behind
floating thoughts, new ideas spawned
like a phoenix, from the ashes of a happier time
where, where did it all go wrong
the id looks back on a golden age
but was it ever really there at all
or was it just a delusion, a mirage
seen thru the golden shades of naivety
a dream for us to hold on to
another item in the attic of my memories
white flash, here we are once more
sitting right back where we are now
out of body, out of mind, out of self
not really there, yet nowhere else to go
and flesh and bones mean nothing to me, for
a skeleton is nothing if it can't breathe
I am trapped in the crossfire of two impending dooms
the future a black hole, the past a brick wall
perhaps in between them, I can make a fake freedom
the present, a brick for us to grab on to
another item in the attic of my memories
tears streaming, floorboards creaking
still I haven't found what I am seeking
amongst the dust and the mothballs
the spiderwebs and the caked-up dirt
and all the fucking pain that money can buy
it's just a thread for us to cling on to
an anchor for us to tie on to
a gravity for us to fall in to
and now I'm a mess, a wreck and a headcase, I'm shaking
eternally haunted, forever imprisoned
here in the attic of my memories
here we are, here we are
walking, looking around, the house
brushing off the dust
and we are not sure
the feeling within this place
is that of love, or that of lust
this home, this capsule of our lives
could it really be that great
or is it merely a sentimentality
a hook for us to hold on to
another item in the attic of my memories
flashback, here we are again
within the remnants of a childhood left behind
floating thoughts, new ideas spawned
like a phoenix, from the ashes of a happier time
where, where did it all go wrong
the id looks back on a golden age
but was it ever really there at all
or was it just a delusion, a mirage
seen thru the golden shades of naivety
a dream for us to hold on to
another item in the attic of my memories
white flash, here we are once more
sitting right back where we are now
out of body, out of mind, out of self
not really there, yet nowhere else to go
and flesh and bones mean nothing to me, for
a skeleton is nothing if it can't breathe
I am trapped in the crossfire of two impending dooms
the future a black hole, the past a brick wall
perhaps in between them, I can make a fake freedom
the present, a brick for us to grab on to
another item in the attic of my memories
tears streaming, floorboards creaking
still I haven't found what I am seeking
amongst the dust and the mothballs
the spiderwebs and the caked-up dirt
and all the fucking pain that money can buy
it's just a thread for us to cling on to
an anchor for us to tie on to
a gravity for us to fall in to
and now I'm a mess, a wreck and a headcase, I'm shaking
eternally haunted, forever imprisoned
here in the attic of my memories
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