Glass Garden

Rows of roses drowned in a brazen display of clay.
Floating but downward bound, they drifted away.
A delicate balance was found, but tipped and toppled the same day.
Astounded by the fountain ground turning waves into graves.

We are all falling apart!
Shards in the garden!
Buckshot popping in the dark!
At a moving target!

O, a dark harvest is abound! We're living on decay.
Glistening gums bleeding out before hellacious bellyache.
Upchucking what cuts us up! A raining spray of razorblades!
Here come the mountainous clouds to further lacerate!

We are all falling apart!
Shards in the garden!
Buckshot popping in the dark!
At a moving target!

The poor-sellin' porcelain, whom can't afford to be decent!
We descend when we spend lives like dimes and pretend
We can never end!



Credits
Writer(s): Scott Baker
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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