Circle Of Dead Children Four Walls And A Feeling
Disfiguring the memory
So silent
So serene
One eye shut for the past
One eye opens for tomorrow's dream
Mark her the one
The one who will stand alone
Pitter-patter of dry-rotted love
Plunging, dropping, splashing into heaven's eighth lake
And casting a disfigured reflection of life in its eight rings
Dry flaking tincture under one-inch fingernails
So follow her home
Follow her to reprisal so sweet
Crying help to a barren room
Barren walls
Romance in monotone
She will never miss you
We will never miss you
