holidays lost verse

wrote this one precisely on my birthday
things on my chest i got get off in the worst way
perpetual thirdie... precisely thirty
can't save myself cause i can't find the words, see
i'm rehearsing as some play at time reversing
confined to lurking, i can't even excise the verses
i find diversions while i slide to worthless
but you can't blame a microphone, it's blind to its purpose
how is it they can't see that i'm voiceless
this here... this is a toy, it's
a parlor trick. all sleight of hand and false ego
why would you listen to me of all people?
a life that's been centered on gusts of peddling trust
with a finger on the wound til the sentiments bust
yeah, got a couple milestones, but never enough
they say i'll find home, i'm bettin' on rust
it's settled then, huh? once again it just wasn't enough
mark the time by the stone that's been swelling in guts
i'll set fire to the last 12 pages ripped
and do my best every day to stage a fit
this is the sound of a white flag waving
the sigh of a man losing his patience
now i'll breathe, make that chest heave
repeat, repeat, til death divests the deed

posted by adam @ 12:48 PM