The great game

The great game

I live, I die, I live again

Forgotten name

Virtue to sin

History repeats

I know the future

Because I am the past

And nothing was built to last

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It’s a brand new night
And the moon is high
Its light shines upon all I see
The cure for my disease
I threw away
Each and every day
I forgot a little more
Like the slamming of a door
I surfer alone because
No one knows the sins I bare
And no one wold care
Nor would they stay
If they saw the light of day

Queen Of the Bored

With cigarette eyes and whiskey lips
She came into existence
A moment to late
And a minute to early
For her the sun would dim
As she moved across the land
Queen of the bored
Often ignored
She haunted the constellations
Burning with desire
To extinguish the flame
That burned cold inside
An all to human frame
She wanted it darker
She wanted it pitch
Like her soul
If truth be told
So she searched the heavens
And found no answers
In her celestial kingdom
She knew only boredom

Cold December

I write the words, I will never say
Of thoughts I’ll never remember
Here in this cold December
I feel the heat of Hell nip at my heels
And know no peace
In the nights growing longer
As the apathy ebbs and flows like the tides
In a mind an empty dark sea
Craving a conclusion to my questions
And knowing the only solution
That never manifests in the waking hours
Between the short breaths of air and sighs of despair
Here in the solitude of disrepair
That echoes in my head