Closing The Books

There's a foghorn bawling on the raging sea
What is lost in the deep was never meant to be
The twitching, the arguing and bitching
These open wounds need stitching
And mark the end for you and me
Does it matter who forgot to feed the dove
After all there was nothing left to rise above
But a prison
Where limp flesh failed to stiffen
And too much television
Closed the books on endless love
Play it down, play it cool
Don't let the ice cubes melt
Soon enough you'll forget how soft the lips once felt
Just erase it, deny it and replace it
Light a match and blaze it
Or choke it with a leather belt
Is that a foghorn bawling in the dead of night
Or is someone mourning the escaping light
Lying sleepless, facedown on a mattress
Wrestling with a madness
Flickering in black and white



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