Musée Ennui

"People don't really know you until they love you" We were walking on Carthaginian flowerbeds Those golden shields could block out the darkness of any heart, but our troupe played many parts Sometimes we stole the sun And sometimes we gave these petals as sharp as knives to street urchins for fun Laughing as their hands bled They still smiled cheek to cheek There's lions under our beds Isn't that why we hardly sleep? Manic encoded in their engram Living in a degrading program It's the 1s and 0s, the fading heros the role models that lost their way the dreams that you still claim drive you yet you're stuck under sheets teary eyed drained of belief everything you touch loses its mystique so you hide from the world because nothing feels complete and the louder that you scream, the smaller that you seem it's not easy being weak it's not easy being trapped in the rhythm of a dance between your heart and the person you dreamt of being Your own fantastical creation A labyrinth of self fulfilling prophecies that never came to be If only they could see the beauty you could see Then maybe all the pain would mean something to you and me "lost to the wind never had a chance to be anything but a conclusion"