80% cloud, chance of sunny spells

This is no funeral but everyone is wearing grey.
The music’s playing loud enough that I can’t hear a word you say. 
I nod even though it’s a death wish. 
You’re playing with my mind again with your knotted strings, 
You step forward and you’re glimmering but no one else notices you. 
There aren’t enough distractions and I’m feeling scared. 
It’s a camping trip to madness country and I’m unprepared.
80% cloud, chance of sunny spells.
We booked our cells into damp starless hotels.
A tap on my shoulder and you fall apart,
A friend makes a joke but you tug at my heart and there’s not even a smile to make him keep talking and stay,
Is it selfish that I want him so you keep the hell away?
I like this song, can I stay here a while? 
You shake your head with a dripping smile and the tip of a knife it shows 
beneath your chemically-patterned dress 

I’d die a blood-drenched mess, and they’d never know. 
This is guts and gore filled puppet show and there’s only cabin room for us behind the curtains tonight.
It was sunny here, 
but you pulled the cord and cut the light.
So many people it seems dumb to feel alone,
A girl backed into a corner we’ve all got our own,
And you turn to me and say “it’s time I took you home”
And you look like me.
Mental health’s a mirror ball and it reflects selectively.


The Colourlovers API seems to be down so this is black and white.

Close this box.