Paparind day, darind day, darind day
Paparind day, darind day, darind day
Paparind day, darind day, darind day
As she analyzes the demise of her beauty to ashes
Her lashes shorten to open her eyes wide to the times
Where sadness is a reality and dreams are no longer a blank check
And checks if it's all real
The blank stare on her face in the mirror where once the smile lit up
Absence of the mask
But now all that's alight is the fire burning her resolve
Resolving her skin
Layer after layer
Bearing her soul to the demons
Like St. Michael stepping on the face of the devil
Now there was a time when the cure for the cut would begin with a gentle tip of a pen
But time and time again the pain would creep in
Paper cut, paper crinkle till my patience wears thin
No longer found in the aisles of hope where she used to align herself with body
The end is obscure as a needle put thin
Under the sun
painted with the patronising powers within
But crooked she seeks redress
in the times where sleep meant dreaming
And nothing can put her to sleep any more
Reality is a nightmare where
night air is thick and laden with an ominous stench of foreboding
But what if the reflection wasn't so fun
and the demon's not unfamiliar
What if the omens were not thrust upon her perception
But a result of faith
What if reality was sad because she was
What if she was her own fool, a bạn?

Will she allow that notion to stand, or strike it down with her same hands that hold up the veil over her eyes as she stands once again until her door is empty?
All mulches on the inside, on the outside
MOMENTARY
Momentary
Momentary
Momentary
Momentary
Momentary
Momentary
Momentary
Momentary

Momentary

Momentary


Momentary
Momentary
Momentary
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.