Call it a Write Off

I got a cross to bare, it’s my burden alone,
For when you decide to give in to the passion, I’m gonna be gone.
You’ve such a pretty face, too good for tears to ruin,
The curse of a thousand ages, means I never sleep anymore.

Only the wicked sleep tonight, it’s as sound as you’ve ever known,
Two ships that passed in the night, I’ve yet to dream since then.
I gave you my promise, you smashed it in my face,
Let’s do things your way, let’s drink to the end,
I’ll do things your way – and call it a write off.

I’ve got my cross, you’ve got the gun, come on let’s write a book,
A tale of two star crossed killers, made to kill our hearts,
I could never change your mind, never change the time,
It’s a sign of things to come.

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Sleep Through the Static

Oh, what I wouldn’t give to channel out this mess,
For a moments peace and quiet from my head.
All a buzz with thoughts and discussion,
like static that one can never really tune out.

Now is not the time for introspection, now is not the time to go deep.
Now is the time to turn in for the night and to escape into sleep.

The chatter continues. The white noise remains.
And in the wee wee hours stranger thoughts come,
Resonating through the dissonance – ringing just like a bell,
Musings that we agree with ourselves to remember in the morning,
Yet we awake and forget to tell.

Through the night I sit in closest confessional with myself,
Soon I will shut the signal down,
Because if I can’t distract myself I know,
That the show is destined to be a repeat tomorrow.