Post by behindTHEmask on Sept 15, 2005 17:53:32 GMT -8
Burn Your Story.
We tiptoe around the beauty
suppressed into our sight
fogging the air surrounding us
beneath whatever the time is ticking away.
We’re uncertain about how we’re living,
finding flaws breaking our once thought perfection
we’ve attained through growing older,
and leaving ourselves just cut open enough to sting.
There’s a past that tells a story of our present
and predictions on who’ll we’ll be by the time we die.
These stories are never memorized
but edited till reality seems so diluted, it’s mesmerizing.
Lost because nothing means a thing besides this moment
we’ve created by taking the chance to throw away our fears
and burn the ties
that have bound us to our destiny.
We tiptoe around the beauty
suppressed into our oxygen
because we were taught perfection was the only air
that we could ever dare to breathe.
We’ll casually take to addictions
to corrupt our stories
to leave us so far gone,
that history will be recorded into nothing.
We tiptoe around the beauty
suppressed into our sight
fogging the air surrounding us
beneath whatever the time is ticking away.
We’re uncertain about how we’re living,
finding flaws breaking our once thought perfection
we’ve attained through growing older,
and leaving ourselves just cut open enough to sting.
There’s a past that tells a story of our present
and predictions on who’ll we’ll be by the time we die.
These stories are never memorized
but edited till reality seems so diluted, it’s mesmerizing.
Lost because nothing means a thing besides this moment
we’ve created by taking the chance to throw away our fears
and burn the ties
that have bound us to our destiny.
We tiptoe around the beauty
suppressed into our oxygen
because we were taught perfection was the only air
that we could ever dare to breathe.
We’ll casually take to addictions
to corrupt our stories
to leave us so far gone,
that history will be recorded into nothing.
