Scratching at guard gates
building shelves the ones we been placed on
Theirs a look your soul gives when it's been condemned
And you staring at the world with a glare
taking mis- steps to find your way home
broken
Small town forgives empty glasses
but how do we find the glory
I predict your fate
I'm telling you to stand in the window
of the cold cell you sit in
As you watch the world pass you by
Your left with a drink and your sitting on the bench
A slave to regret
A hollow grave,
Stuck upon the shelf.
I sit in front of an audience
I am screaming
The world has begun and ended a hundred times over again
Take your lovers hand
I will show you
How deleted lines carry over
like over due library books
I will file them away.
Scratching at the guard gates
Bleeding to the core
There is a glory
Arms open wide
Stuck upon the shelf
Waiting to be saved.
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