Smoldering Wings
What’s
there to say? Are you going my way?
I’d
appreciate a lift.
My
mind is on fire like a bird on wire that’s frying for landing to soon.
The
surging current cuts through.
Smoldering
wings
With
pains from a day of barely doing a thing,
What
must they think of me?
Alone
in a stall my skin starts to crawl, and the ceiling is crumbling down.
No
more shelter is found.
Covered
in ruble and concrete.
Like
a baneful parasite,
or
the vengeful hand of an angry god ripping through me and stealing the best of my
flawed facade.
It
seems that my nights are threatening to swallow my days.
If
your insides are out and you’re limping about
it’s
obvious to the world.
But
when scars try to heal the nerves start to feel all the throbbing damage inside.
Tempting
endings to try.
Smoldering
wings covered in ruble and concrete.
Like
a savage parasite,
or
the pissed off paw of a bastard god slashing through me and stealing my strength
and my fraud facade.
It seems my blue nights have already hijacked my days.
*All words and music written by T. Randolph Scott