I tried to write the old proverbs that were spoken, but the metaphors seemed to leave me and clean me as they turned to ash. Sometimes I ask will we ever keep this romance, which you and I loved so dear, or shall we burn the books with the old photographs? Desolation seems to follow me everywhere tonight.
So, I take a look in the books of old. Trying to find the answer to fit, but nothing seems to let up, and I fall in my confusion yet again. Dirty faces under the thin dissertation of the masks we seem to use past expire. Curses are then used upon our own lives, for us and beyond.
So I shall take the mask, and burn it. Cast all my fears and tears beside it. The coals of consciences will burn lighter than all the days in the world that we seem to neglect.
Cast down your crowns old kings, and lay your swords fair knights. We know it’s over when we take the mask off and show it to the world, and the people cry and shout, ‘It’s the devil, it’s the devil.’
Darkness seems to corrupt all we used to know, but yet we still use the words of olden. Don’t forget the memories, but burn the books anyways. I don’t want to hear your theories, and I don’t want to hear your reasons. Knowledge is pain, and ignorance is bliss.
Where is the middle? Where is the center and where is the path to redemption. We want no answer, but we can seek it so. The lie that is before us falls once again.
Every person has his peek. Have I reached mine, I dream? Will tomorrow be my last day, or will I still remain? I have no time to ask as the world goes on. I have no time as I continue to write the proverbs of old.
So, I take a look in the books of old. Trying to find the answer to fit, but nothing seems to let up, and I fall in my confusion yet again. Dirty faces under the thin dissertation of the masks we seem to use past expire. Curses are then used upon our own lives, for us and beyond.
So I shall take the mask, and burn it. Cast all my fears and tears beside it. The coals of consciences will burn lighter than all the days in the world that we seem to neglect.
Cast down your crowns old kings, and lay your swords fair knights. We know it’s over when we take the mask off and show it to the world, and the people cry and shout, ‘It’s the devil, it’s the devil.’
Darkness seems to corrupt all we used to know, but yet we still use the words of olden. Don’t forget the memories, but burn the books anyways. I don’t want to hear your theories, and I don’t want to hear your reasons. Knowledge is pain, and ignorance is bliss.
Where is the middle? Where is the center and where is the path to redemption. We want no answer, but we can seek it so. The lie that is before us falls once again.
Every person has his peek. Have I reached mine, I dream? Will tomorrow be my last day, or will I still remain? I have no time to ask as the world goes on. I have no time as I continue to write the proverbs of old.
