Letras
Behold the gallery of love's souvenirs
Behold the proof it wasn't just a dream
My mind is a museum of things held dear
My bones a mausoleum for my grief
Somehow I lived a decade each passing year
A child chasing love through high esteem
No resting on my laurels, there's just die or win
Sequestered in the dark, afraid to be
So bury me
There is no poetry
In rotting away in bed
Rotting in my regret
I wish I know what came before these castle walls
I wish I could remember how to be
But in the winding darkness of those chasmal halls
There's not a single echo left of me
So bury me
There is no poetry
In rotting away in bed
Rotting in my regret
Define the line
Where loathing and longing lie
Where I flinch from touch
Where I crave too much
Paralysed in crumbling foundations
Captured by ghosts of speculation
Trapped in time, cadavers keep the score
Ashamed in desperation
In throes of trepidation
A flight of preservation
A blight upon my heart
Love's souvenir
Contritus es ultra determinatio
Numquam satis erit
Mundus melius sine
Bury me
There is no poetry
In rotting away in bed
Rotting in my regret
Define the line
Where loathing and longing lie
Where I flinch from touch
Where I crave too much