Sick of Goodbyes

no cure for that lonely feeling after saying adieu

Taste of death in his head
Bitter metallic hot and red
Bubbling blue under the surface
Grim has come to collect his purchase

An icy touch, freezing cold
Black and bold, a spirit sold
To the man with the gleaming reaper
Could have bought a soul for cheaper

Dark and angry, guitars a blazing
Plucking notes slow and crazy
Riding on the loyal steed Depression
Fled the last recording session

Yes it's a sad and beautiful world
Speaking darkly of carousel whirls 
Perhaps he did have a heart of darkness
But look at all the light he harnessed

Goodbyes into the mic you scream
I'm sick of them too it seems

Author's Note

Another dark one folks. The inspiration for this one comes from my discovery of a one man band called Sparklehorse. The title of the poem comes from one of the songs off of his album Good Morning Spider called Sick of Goodbyes.