Thursday Night

It seems like we're building a wall of our sinking lies, truth on the statement and gentle sighs.
I'm a sinking ship with a God complex of reigning the ocean
I'm a gun loaded without a bullet at hand,
like a million red candles in the sky.

I know that my heart is lying
when lately it feels like
we're a mirror of what
everyone said we'd become

prove me wrong

i want to know that you disagree
that you genuinely see the end of the thread
i think it could be a friend
one of those that sink in the sea
and crawl out of bed

give me a mirror to crack
to set off another chain of bad luck
i'm a lost melody
stuck inside your brain
i'm faded glory
i'm a cracking chain

burlesque legs wrap around my head
a million thoughts but a tornado of wounds instead
snapping mirrors by time's end
a concrete loss of love that will erase what you said
we're selling streets to wall street
we're buying blocks from the dead
grams of a million lies
all the ones you said

will i ever be redeemed of any moment of deception
the loss of correlation
in the events that i have caused?
a room less than you thought
a million fireflies in a falling rot
the leftover of an item that once gave so much love
and life and all in between
what's the truth
if we're all just sinking in between?

i'm far too many drinks into my thought
my best friend gave me an absolut(e) thought
the alcohol in my veins
is only a mirror
of the thoughts
rushing
through
my
head.