
The stars were flung
The chords were strung
The moon was hung
And day turned into night turned into day turned into night
And the timing wasn’t right
The birds have sung
I climbed a rung
And filled a lung
With the breath of you
And the other I filled with dew
And these days have rolled on in to night
And the years have passed by
And here I am caught in between
Looking into the gray
As I release a sigh…sigh.
I wonder why.
Why after all these years it’s always the same.
Pain upon pane upon pain upon the panes of my life.
I wish they were stained glass or chartreuse or something.
The stars were flung
The chords were strung
The moon was hung
And I am stung
By your silence
By your apathetic violence
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