Title-Less 7

poetry

So much deceit, so many lies in which to feed
To exaggerate the truth beyond belief,
Writing words in which great men wither
And under the influence of a frosted winter
Understand everything is much bigger
How can we simply pretend to mend?
Our hearts broken, those silent songs spoken
Open this heart like a can,
Break these bones like glass
And you might finally understand
Everything remains grey, but that is okay

Maybe we will wash our hands in the filth we have made
Maybe we will try to cover up this hill of Hell
Who are we trying to fool? We can't erase what we are to create

Should you escape,
Remember these notes
They're the only thing that can play those rusty strings
And how just three words can sting!

Well we've made our beds out of bones and nails
Splinters and sharp edges of glass
A haze that always lasts