Rope Burn

My conscious burns, well into the night
I've got more problems than a rope has turns
They multiply like mice, and never come to light
When I'm sober and not drowning in the vice
Of guilt, regret and shame all trying to sink me
Surface tides all change, the bottom stays the same
In concrete boots of doubt, settled in the silt
And my screams are merely bubbles spawned from the shouts

Don't judge the miles on the dashboard
I'll judge the weather on the tread
Ill pull my hair till my head is bald
And my brakes are all but bled
The wheels spin and tyres screech
That distant hope is now far out of reach
When the tank runs dry and the fumes fade out
We're as good as...



Credits
Writer(s): Philip James Bentley, Andrew Michael Edgar Seeley, Sam Farrar
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link