yournewhaircut
01/14/09, 07:53 PM
(I post these lyrics every once in a while, but I am trying out new things with it)
Within walls of cold trees on a mountain peak, the air cuts and numbs your skin. Your blood is slowing down... real slow (just the way you like it). On a diet of nothing of nothing and cold, you haven't been hungry for weeks, but the frost stains your mirror so you can't see the bones beginning to protude from your cheeks. Just hold that blanket close. Let it absorb that malignant warmth, because tears in your eyes will crystallize and never let your crystal eyes--
"Wake up! Wake up! You're going to be late for your appointment!"
"Aghh..."
"Well, you can't very well leave the doctor waiting. Now can you?"
Before your pale goes to blue and then to black, I hope you come back from that icy grave that you plan to call home.
Long fine hairs separate, the light floods into your eyes. You're fully awake, and you realize that you're still in that cold room. It wasn't a dream, because you don't dream. But how can that be? How can a person exist and live but not dream? It occurs to me that I haven't noticed my own presence in this whole situation that I've been explaining, and describing as if I'd been there. I realize that I'm the one who's dreaming. I mean, I know you're real and all, but my idea of you is an ideal that you created and I believed, and I still believe...
You're a violet bloomed too early for the spring. And Jack Frost is sneaking up to make you freeze. I'd pick you out of that cold ground, but you'd wilt away anyway, so I'll just stay here and warm your leaves. I just want you to live!
Within walls of cold trees on a mountain peak, the air cuts and numbs your skin. Your blood is slowing down... real slow (just the way you like it). On a diet of nothing of nothing and cold, you haven't been hungry for weeks, but the frost stains your mirror so you can't see the bones beginning to protude from your cheeks. Just hold that blanket close. Let it absorb that malignant warmth, because tears in your eyes will crystallize and never let your crystal eyes--
"Wake up! Wake up! You're going to be late for your appointment!"
"Aghh..."
"Well, you can't very well leave the doctor waiting. Now can you?"
Before your pale goes to blue and then to black, I hope you come back from that icy grave that you plan to call home.
Long fine hairs separate, the light floods into your eyes. You're fully awake, and you realize that you're still in that cold room. It wasn't a dream, because you don't dream. But how can that be? How can a person exist and live but not dream? It occurs to me that I haven't noticed my own presence in this whole situation that I've been explaining, and describing as if I'd been there. I realize that I'm the one who's dreaming. I mean, I know you're real and all, but my idea of you is an ideal that you created and I believed, and I still believe...
You're a violet bloomed too early for the spring. And Jack Frost is sneaking up to make you freeze. I'd pick you out of that cold ground, but you'd wilt away anyway, so I'll just stay here and warm your leaves. I just want you to live!