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Seryn
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Ivory Black
The less and less I sing
As my skin begins to creep
For I recognize the truth
About the permanence of me.
And we are paper-thin,
We're tearing at the folds.
You're living if you're warm,
But I'm just feeling…
Cold, but I'm not dead.
Carrying all these fears on wings of lead.
Coursed between the cracks;
Burn my bones to ivory black.
The less and less I sing
As my mouth begins to feed
On any ease I find,
But nothing that I need.
The moment I am sure
I am sure to second guess.
I'll never learn to fly
If I never leave this nest.
The moment I am sure
I am sure to second guess.
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I'm not looking for a home,
I'm just looking for some rest.
And like a wooden frame,
With silk-screen for a hide:
From my pores I recreate
The same old stupid lies.
And with my teeth and with my nails
I'll scratch off my designs.
Cold, but I'm not dead.
Carrying all these fears on wings of lead.
Coursed between the cracks;
Burn my bones to ivory black.
And like a wooden frame,
With silk-screen for a hide:
From my pores I recreate
The same old stupid lies.
And with my teeth and with my nails
I'll scratch off my designs.
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