he strings his own tune, the one, he’s like the dark side of the moon
they say life hurts and it’s awful, you just want to cry
we move, hold the edge and realize it was beautiful all along
the song shifts, the pits of hell close and all that you knew lost its melancholy tune
i tap, pat and feel for what once was and hope it’s no longer gone
but in my mind, i know we’re not fine and the waves we walked
our lines have split and ours spirits are no longer aligned
one day i’ll see your face, your life and death upon our days
a frequent thought of yesterday where our faces radiated
beyond was just a simple thought, i never knew how far gone
the way a human could taste: the simple, sweet, the life
i look in eyes, i see disguise, an occasional warm
sometimes strong feeling of lies that always seem to compromise
i’m wise, but that doesn’t stop a foolish thought of the lingering past
tumble from feeling, the way you look at ceilings and wonder
“is my life truly this,” he asked himself, but he knew the answer
the question was only as superficial as the personality he claimed
i always wondered if he spoke the names of the ones he hurt
if the harm he dealt was just to covert his long-lost heart
but life, for him, just a court where the jester plays lead
he keeps them on their knees and laughs when in need
yet what he doesn’t realize is eventually time eludes and he will, too
