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Self-made Secrecy
The delicate strands of your hair,
falling in front of those eyes,
twisting in my fingers.
I’ll play with your hair
Until the weight of the night
Anchors your eye lids shut.
Song after song that I write for you,
The darkness is getting darker
the pain is getting stronger.
One last song to you,
One last attempt to make sense
To another mind as fucked up as mine.
This life is a mystery, a self-made secrecy.
Everyone has to let go someday,
But i guess today is not my day.
