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Floodlights fading out
Disintegrated crowd
Whispers of a slow retreat
Bitter notion of defeat
Miscarriage of words
Stricken where it hurts
With no chance to retaliate
In the war again
Seeking shelter from the pen
Maybe I am wrong
Maybe I'm too weak to play along
Maybe just too blind to see the real enemy
Maybe I'll withdraw
Maybe I should read the rules once more
A greenhouse full of stones
A closet full of bones
A teaspoon full of sympathy
That's the dreaded recipe
Compounding bile and ink
A mesmerising drink
Blacking out the vital thoughts
'cause the lights don't shine
In a constipated mind
Maybe I am wrong
Maybe I'm too weak to play along
Maybe just too blind to see the real enemy
Maybe I'm to blame
Maybe I should never played this game
Better keep an eye
on the ones you leave to die
Maybe I am wrong
Maybe I'm too weak to play along
Maybe just too blind to see the real enemy
Maybe it's the end
Maybe I should read the rules again
The winner may be me
MMI © Terje Kleven |