Blinds

Irene Wilde

Compositor: Não Disponível

Who am I
I listen to cars go by
Remembering that time
I was part of that eager flight
But now I just look through blinds

In my house
Down the street
On the block
In the city

I'm just in my house
Down the street
On the block

For no one hears a thing
We bite our tongues until they bleed
Silently concave forms
Spread across concrete floors
And sigh with no relief

Who am I
I don't want the answer sometimes
Remembering my mind
Before it feared everyday life
And how it shows through my eyes

In my house
Down the street
On the block
In the city

I'm just in my fucking house
Down the street
No one wants to hear me scream

No one wants to hear a God damn thing
So I bite our tongues until they bleed
Silently my concave form
Spreads across concrete floors
And sighs with no relief

Unraveling; one thread that holds the seams
My tar soaked lungs that can barely breathe
Flushed cheeks; rapid nerve endings
Oh, clench the fists and pound
Till everything falls down

Hide your face until your muscles tense and quake
Someone release me from this God damn state
But they never really believe me anyway

Oh, is this real?
Oh no, no, no
Oh, is this real this thing you feel
Oh no, no, no

Oh, is this real
Oh no, no, no
Oh, is this real, this pain you say you feel
Oh no

In the house
Down the street

For no one hears a thing
So we bite our tongues until they bleed
Silently my concave form
Spreads across concrete floors
And sigh with no relief