The summer wind is cold and yet the days remain long
And I sit back and watch as the prelude to this song is ending.
The summer nights aren't warm and yet the moon goes through its phases
And its faces keep changing and moving to different places
In the black canopy of this sky.
It's no surprise my motivation is lacking
And my ultimate demise is from my own slacking.
This cold summer wind lulls me to hibernation
In every aspect of my optimistic infatuation with life.
The wind chill crawls up my spine and I find myself thinking about the words of a friend
Who asked me,
"Why do people hold on to something good, even though they know it will end?"
The repressed feeling of my undressed self desperately trying to crawl out of my skin is on repeat
As I find that my blood is boiling at the pit of my being
And this feeling seems to send me careening toward my damp, dark hell.
The checkered floor is dizzying as I walk the narrow corridors of this nameless place
And these little things cause these faceless sins and demon twins to periodically rise again and again and again.
Eyes on the floor look up our skirts with no shame, only to discover that we are nothing more than the people we fuck.
A seed planted in my mind,
My soul, my heart,
My love, my life
Digs its roots in through my sides
And sprouts its branches through my eyes.
And I can't seem to truly hide
The instability deep inside
That takes my pride and finds my lies
No matter how hard I fight or how hard I try
To keep myself on track.
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