Here, waiting on the closing.
Dark, is only coming in.
It's hard, to cut it in the meantime,
You fall, further in the end.
Tonight, I'm crawling inside,
A life that I don't own.
Tides are always turning after,
Sails are broken by the wind,
It's time, to lower the flare gun,
The light is all but done.
It's £1 for emptiness a piece,
And this road gets steep,
And It's harder to believe
When you know there's nothing left to see,
And you'll always be,
Second on the scene.
Done living in the moment,
Soon, is always on the way.
The grind, a grim reminder,
Of childhood long since gone.
What have you done, with this yearning for release?
The fortunate son, who’s fallen to his knees.
Aren’t you the one, who was begging just to leave this behind?
There is nothing in the answer,
Just hoped to find it in the end.
A day spent calling over,
A night when no one showed.
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