Posted by: SPT | August 16, 2010

Tall tell Altel w/o the Alps

I feel the cryptic spell spill over my next tale
So what do I do, instead of deja vu I stand up and write it down
So what if i’m really sitting, it’s my fitting for becoming a king
Measuring me with ancient tools, unable to conclude
Is this just another mule with a couple extra inches
or Can they admit that I’m beyond measures
They take extra steps to cut, but the scene isn’t over
Fabric lines and slit-cutting fines, the song’s far from over.

It’s not dramas or tv, or movies and CDs
It’s not the bright red lipstick or makeup on her skin
It’s not the blinking light from the text messages that I miss
but it’s always the feeling that exists

It’s not the lies and deceits that we hear and create
It’s not the broken world that we see shattered within
It’s not the corrupt politicians or their kin
but it’s always my reason to begin

I speak too much, so now I shall focus
Words are heavy and my flow is viscous
The dark poise follows my shadow, lurking each step that I allowed
but given a choice I finally see and witness my blowout. I stood so short a distance I could measure it with my eyes, staring the decision with clear vision I was already acting shy, but two chances are one too many so I said my goodbyes. I have the same ability for which most are willing to die, but ignorant of the bliss I exist within, with an open eye, I put on my glasses and continue to live a lie.


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