Looking Up
I got the call to pay my regards
Before my stomping grounds
Are turned to rummage yard
Up those wooden stairs I marched
Through all those darkened doors
Betwixt too familiar art
I breached into the attic scene
And caught a mouthful of dust
(Which covered everything)
And within those rows of towering
Cardboard tombs I found
All these forgotten versions of "me"
Don't tell me so
All these frames were left in shadow
Don't tell me so
I can't imagine those eyes closed
Am I wasting your time?
By being inelegant?
By veering off road?
Am I wasting your time?
By being inanimate?
By being a ghost?
I suddenly became entranced
By internal elegy
For those wasted plans
The stream rushed swiftly past
And I begged to float away
But you can never truly turn back
As I looked at the capsulized list
Of scattered artifacts
I had to admit
After every hand that's ticked
There are some things that I still miss
Don't tell me so
There's no light on in the window
Don't tell me so
There's so many years that I'll never know again
I am wasting your time
By being a counterfeit
By looking below
I am wasting your time
By being inadequate
By being disposed
Before my stomping grounds
Are turned to rummage yard
Up those wooden stairs I marched
Through all those darkened doors
Betwixt too familiar art
I breached into the attic scene
And caught a mouthful of dust
(Which covered everything)
And within those rows of towering
Cardboard tombs I found
All these forgotten versions of "me"
Don't tell me so
All these frames were left in shadow
Don't tell me so
I can't imagine those eyes closed
Am I wasting your time?
By being inelegant?
By veering off road?
Am I wasting your time?
By being inanimate?
By being a ghost?
I suddenly became entranced
By internal elegy
For those wasted plans
The stream rushed swiftly past
And I begged to float away
But you can never truly turn back
As I looked at the capsulized list
Of scattered artifacts
I had to admit
After every hand that's ticked
There are some things that I still miss
Don't tell me so
There's no light on in the window
Don't tell me so
There's so many years that I'll never know again
I am wasting your time
By being a counterfeit
By looking below
I am wasting your time
By being inadequate
By being disposed
Credits
Writer(s): Abigail Franklin, Kaden Johanson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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