Post by Whimsical||MUSE; on Sept 6, 2011 17:54:06 GMT -5
A/N ~ damn all T>T
She dreams of Escape
Where has the happiness gone?
It is all lost, like all things are lost -
gone with the wind, that terrible cliche.
Gone with my feelings,
whisked away in darkness.
I hear the whispers of their doubt,
I see the truth they hiss in the shadows,
and I cry.
I cry.
There is no one to save me --
Sir Eglamore has already killed a dragon once
for a maiden so fair, and who am I?
What am I but a shallow, pasty oddity beside those
all knowing eyes?
Am I worth a dragon's tooth, a dragon's fire?
Am I worth death?
No, no -- there is no hero here,
or there, or even in my dreams strong enough to save me from myself.
So this shadow, this loneliness consumes,
and devours the light.
So this fire, once so bright,
suffocated:
I have a burn on my hand, I have that hasty impulse still lingering in my blood.
Will I run?
Like a bird, unable to stand under the pressure:
will I fly?
A coward, unable to face the truth:
Will I simply die?
Ah, AH, there is peace in that.
We're all falling away, you're all out of reach --
Can I trace your faces on the foggy window pane?
Can I reach out, or will I be left alone again, always,
always, the light that comes and disappears?
The hope that ignites too readily,
too easily.
I'll kill it this time.
For good, for good --
I'll destroy this trace of happiness
and cut off my roots, I'll bleed, bleed black, bleed sorrow,
bleed grief in my poor broken hands.
I'll let it all bleed away
and let the clouds suck me up into their monsoon
as the storm passes
and all returns to brightness.
She dreams of Escape
Where has the happiness gone?
It is all lost, like all things are lost -
gone with the wind, that terrible cliche.
Gone with my feelings,
whisked away in darkness.
I hear the whispers of their doubt,
I see the truth they hiss in the shadows,
and I cry.
I cry.
There is no one to save me --
Sir Eglamore has already killed a dragon once
for a maiden so fair, and who am I?
What am I but a shallow, pasty oddity beside those
all knowing eyes?
Am I worth a dragon's tooth, a dragon's fire?
Am I worth death?
No, no -- there is no hero here,
or there, or even in my dreams strong enough to save me from myself.
So this shadow, this loneliness consumes,
and devours the light.
So this fire, once so bright,
suffocated:
I have a burn on my hand, I have that hasty impulse still lingering in my blood.
Will I run?
Like a bird, unable to stand under the pressure:
will I fly?
A coward, unable to face the truth:
Will I simply die?
Ah, AH, there is peace in that.
We're all falling away, you're all out of reach --
Can I trace your faces on the foggy window pane?
Can I reach out, or will I be left alone again, always,
always, the light that comes and disappears?
The hope that ignites too readily,
too easily.
I'll kill it this time.
For good, for good --
I'll destroy this trace of happiness
and cut off my roots, I'll bleed, bleed black, bleed sorrow,
bleed grief in my poor broken hands.
I'll let it all bleed away
and let the clouds suck me up into their monsoon
as the storm passes
and all returns to brightness.