Bittermelon

by Glass Lungs & The Month Of Broken Fingers
(Burlington Ontario)


That same mist looms I only see what's close. This empty room is filled with ghosts. So far I'm alright, push me over because I don't want the sight of my failures getting closer. I'm never too far off but I'm still gripping sand. I am so far lost, please send me a steady hand. Missing's a custom, stay away (x2). You shied me off forget me (x2). When they poke at the remains, they don't fight back. Let it grow to the grain of feeling that lack. Missing's a custom, stay away (x2). You shied me off forget me (x2). Those handsome days let shine those gruesome grays now mine. I forgot to say the fine parts of my life were spent skipping stones that's value's has never been known, now it's little less than a dime in the fountain that spits wishes unanswered.

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