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S O L A C E I N F U G U E

Scatter ‘round the broken glass.
I’m coming down and coming fast.
The blood drips down from punctured skin.
I can’t remember where I’ve been.

I’ve failed and there’s no going back.
And right before the world goes black.
I call you with a string of hope
that what you say will help me cope.

And solace often comes to those
who’ve kept their wits within her throes.
She chooses not to give release,
but wonders why there is no peace.

And I perpetuate the game
by choosing not to take the blame.
And so this roundabout goes on
until the love that’s left is gone.

Kill the pain till it’s over.
Should we wait till I’m sober?

You put a cork in, call it change,
and everyone looks at you strange.
You work your fingers to the bone.
You shouldn’t have to feel alone.

But that’s what this is all about.
You see the punch line clearer now.
The joke we were is almost gone.
The laughter keeps us holding on.

Kill the pain till it’s over.
Best we wait till I’m sober.

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The Ugly Facade Texas

We live our lives in boxes, with little glowing screens. We fill our blood with toxins, so we can deal with things. And sometimes, more than often, the bitter masks the taste. The fruitless failed reflection: what if it's all a waste?

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