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reaching into the void to reclaim alost imagination only to end with a handful of cobwebs and gray hairs

from january by a bathtile green

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lyrics

With the sun shining on our heads
We weaved narratives
Filled with brilliant imagery and plot twists.
Crawling under the church pews
-the polished wood exhaled softly-
we drew creatures you would never believe.
With hand-me-downs action figures
Battling over pillow forts
We created fantastically vivid worlds
With puppet governments, romance, sacrifice
And deceit;
Stories of rebellion/unbridled youth.

I’m filling my head with smoke.
Oh it was already quite clouded.
What a murky barren waste
My mind has become.
Thought this would give me inspiration.
Words and phrases.
We used to think nothing of it.
Our beautiful places.

So lets numb ourselves to our past.
We won’t remember being better and thinking fast.

Fantasy means nothing to me
Anymore.
I truly think if I met me
I’d hate what’s in store.

As these words hit paper
The thought strikes
That I could/should write something better
Or maybe I can’t anymore more.

credits

from january, released February 3, 2013

license

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about

a bathtile green Black Mountain, North Carolina

songs about nothing

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