quarta-feira, 30 de julho de 2025

The eyes of the past

 The past looked at me with it's train light eyes
looking into me with a thousand statements
some of them true

How we sour and move 
sour and move

How we grow and resign to it all
grow and resign

pieces of moving architecture
just excuses to spend and comment
how you reassure

on the treatise of a solid society
one that won't just
get pulled out from under you

The past sat across from me and played it's hand
the bluffs were extraordinary I swear I'm impressed
Those soft cheeks and innocent accusations

How we cling to youth cling to youth
sour and move grow and resign

Pieces of you sewn to convention
obeying and adoring 
feeling the years

how we resist the new trends
pretending we never followed them
bluffing our way through

tricking no one
and only just decieving ourselves
moving sourly in resignation

Right now those eyes meet mine
when I look into them
eyes of accusation

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