Midnight Sun.

I grasp the sheets in my wake,
These thoughts I know I should never think.
But help is an angel of which I can’t conceive,
She doesn’t have time to listen to screams.
Not as if it’s a legal thing,
Singing out loud a forbidden sank,
Not that the world could understand,
As I’m swimming in an ocean, treading in sand.
As I’m following footsteps that disappear,
People who lie and find no fear,
Books that loose their bleeding words,
Am I falling Am I drifting? Or is it their curse..

Unanswered hopes that go all night,
Is that her, is that her ringing right?
The caller I.D was a false, wrong turn
Never have hope in a woman who burns.
Never put hope in a woman who burns.

Every day and every night,
I’m fighting fears, hanging on tight.
Not that reason can fulfill my dreams, every night it happens, it’s hate it seems.
Why do I then chase those leaves, drifting past windows, condemning trees.
Belonging in where nothing is true, feeling false living in the place called proof.
Describing, laughing, its all a game. My eyes they darken, and yet are the same.

And feelings of the mind, can’t decide?
When living loses it’s right to die.
When living loses it’s right to die.
I’m hanging on to every line…

I never knew when I was a child, that when everything happens, ‘give it a while’?
Given time, time is free. Bullshit my love, nothing is free.
You think that love will give you pain, you haven’t felt hate, you haven’t felt shame.
In compare to tumbling wrenching guilt, love is a drug, drugged then built.
Open doors and closed up minds, the sign is blinking on Every Line.
And nobody expects anyone to understand, when living becomes a closed reprimand.
And hope is a bitch that lives nearby,
And they wake up every morning and they still don’t cry?
How tough do people have to be to live, can they not go outside, can they not just live?
Is living a crime, hope a sin? God I hope not, then don’t count me in.

I’d rather live a lie, than have the faith deterred, a being to war – a life reborn.
Fight for what’s right, did you fight?
When they pulled out their knives and their army wives?
Let them keep their haughty words, let the wise keep on being absurd.
Because in the end when it’s all said and done, we’re living on the edge,
Were living on the run. Hanging on to every midnight sun.