Poetry
英语

Poetry 歌词

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It's been a long, slow slide To the depths of her soul God, I wish I knew the point where she lost control She moves slowly, she opens the blind She looks out from her window, god knows what she will find She listens for sounds of distant conversations She has a memory of a time and place But no consciousness of where she is now She reads poetry she wrote long ago She keeps words deep under the floor She talks of secrets and desires, Of triumphs and of falls She bathes in pools of her reflection She sees children in the dark She waits for something she's not sure of Some kind of spark Some kind of life that's not hers Some kind of something else She's a hundred million miles away She writes poetry of places she's been She paints words all over the wall She waits for something to enfold her But she always needs more Some kind of life that's not her Some kind of something else On the centre of the mantle is a tiny wooden box And she opens it so slowly and she sees all she has lost It's the only thing he gave her and she holds it in her hand It's a twisted, shattered, damaged broken heart

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