And I have scraped and scraped, the ancient brick
only to excavate skeletons
of men past who used to have
they had, wine upon their lips
and I admit, I was one of them
destined to a lonely death of addiction
so with my last breath, I will address
the weight of my state...
Cause I agree we're damaged goods
from love lost, love misunderstood.
Anchors jammed into the cogs
have screeched this to a halt.
Murder this in me.
This baggage that dragged me down so low
Dredge this out from the bottom.
Oh! Can it be washed clean?
Or is it only in a dream...
where men can once again begin.
Men can once again begin.
But as my wrongs stack one on one.
I create my tomb
Could this progress be undone.
Treasures emerge from the muck.
Cargo of a sunken ship
whose port long forgot.
Remind me of it's destination
and of the mercy in the waves.
Stave off my desperation
remind me of the winds, that will carry me through.
Could these bricks upon excavation
have a golden hue.
all rights reserved