i could hear it through the ventilation.

maybe i was crying too hard,
i couldn't hear your yells,
maybe you were drowning, brother,
maybe i'm full of shit.
i was listening echoes gone,
your voice a silent, broken song,

if i play until my fingers bleed
and the notes sound strong,
will your voice sound sweet?
because i'm an echo too, my brother,
there's no other,
but you and me.

though i should add,
the other echoes made me sad.

frustrations, sexual and not.

we're dancing on the edge of a knife,
pirouettes upon a razor,
numb to the pain and in our minds
we're following an enchanter's fife.

we're walking though we're blind,
unaware of what we can do,
mice with mangled tails,
we have no idea, no fucking clue.

we're running out of time
to fling our souls askew,
broken bodies with broken wings,
treading on restless strings.

spectacular spectacular.

give me something, i need something,
let me feel, oh let me bleed.
burning reeds and stringing reels
is no way to live.

we are running, watch us running,
make us smile, and make us scream,
busting seams and drunken miles
are getting old.

this love thing is getting old, so old,
when there's no one to make you make things right
or smile at night.
i don't want these years to leave me cold, so cold.

we dream

what am i becoming,
and what have i done?
am i a
clone a clone a clone a clone a clone a clone a
figment of imagination that has ripped itself shreds,
only to find that there is not heart behind the skin?
but i think i'm more akin to a fish who ripped its fin
because he thought he could walk.

a
clone a clone a clone a clone a clone a clone.
i think i've won.
let me dream.

but you, my brother in arms...

on a fair fall day,
i watched you die,
i watched you fall,
now here i lie.

take peace dear friend,
that we are gone,
though we were faceless,
we were strong.

fog

the mist is rolling in,
heavy on hearts,
and darkening days,
the mist is rolling in.

like in no man's land,
it's falling down,
a lingering veil,
in no man's land.

from over the river,
a cry of regret,
a day smothered,
from over the river.

the mist is rolling in,
the sun is blotted out,
the fears are boiling up,
rolling in.

what fools are we.

it's been a while.
the hair on my head is a bit longer,
and my body has no doubt grown.
but i am still the same, friend.

if we could be stronger,
we'd make it to the end,
reap what we've sown,
but independence is out of style.

[edit: my goddamn spelling]