Here it goes again, the masking of dirty truths- the penning of words, creating worlds that are lost on you. You never care to meet characters laid upon your feet, never to penetrate the membrane you have wrapped around you. But I saw more I think a thought of you. The words I've said, no longer spent- one slipped tongue and there you went through, with me right after you.
So I see you've built yourself a fortress too, but when compared to these walls yours seems bare like an old cocoon that will crumble soon. Now I breathe the stale air of my little tomb and drink the water drank before, and eat the mildew off the walls for food.
Ride. Tumble free and feel undone. Every word strikes a hammerfall. Why, once again, fire as you may, will this wall not divide? And I try and catch my mind as it goes on peeling off its rind; so I grow but I pass as pointless rhymes just for show, and now I think it's time that you disrobe. The package is waiting.
I didn't know it would be so long, and I grow so tired of singing songs to those who know, but still carry on like they don't. Now I think it's time that you know that now I think it's time. Each successive line ricochets wall turned, denied, back at mine.
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