The Cold-Sheet Crematorium

I cant find the reason that i always search for darkness in the light.
Is it because i want to lay down in the shade and rest my head?
Or just another excuse to socialize with the dead. . .

I'm tired of singing empty words (so i just wont sing at all, no i just wont sing at all)
And i'm tired of always sounding all the wrong notes
(From these cut and bleeding throats that seem to always burn. . .)

- with unkempt passion it seems, as all my deeds go undone,
and pure reason it screams, she's telling me to go!
But i'm stuck fast to this pavement that is slowly crumbling, slowly crumbling.
And my eyes transfixed by mirrors that always shatter in my face. . .

I'm tired of singing empty words (so i just wont sing at all, no i just wont sing at all)
And i'm tired of always sounding all the wrong notes
(From these cut and bleeding throats that seem to always burn. . .)

I'm begging for this banter to alight my nerves.
These aphorisms, only meaning they avert.
I'm begging for this banter to alight my nerves.
These aphorisms, only rhetoric they serve.

Im done, with turnigng away from you despite the pain, and
Your love, it overwhelms me, and
I'll go, to seek and try to do whats right, cause
I know, that i'll never be the same. . .

I'm tired of singing empty words (so i just wont sing at all, no i just wont sing at all)And i'm tired of always sounding all the wrong notes(From these cut and bleeding throats that seem to always burn. . .)

~Jory