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I Shall Be Released

de Socratic

Overdressed in a box with it's life overhead.
Its friends are in snapshots.
I would hate if the last time I was ever seen
was from beggars on their knees.
I lived in between a funeral home and childrens park.
Out one window I saw laughter.
Out the other I saw suits.
Spare them the sight of a body all used.
Comfortably laid in clothes you would never wear.
Your eyes are closed shut, even though they cannot see.
They broke a bone or two just to adjust the body.
Once had a doll that was pure as the snow in thread.
The bags under her eyes, they matches clothes that were chosen
just to compensate how terribly they shined.
She was a prize that made the sun
and the moon fight over
which one would cast the shadow.
Which one would keep her company.
I fooled myself in thinking I knew you.
But all I know were glassy eyes,
is this the way you gain your youth?
A sweet hangover at my service.
Go so far under the influence
you'll make blacker bags under your eyes.
So far you become underground.
So far you will never realize
your a diamond in a world of coal.

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