sophocles_hero

I steady myself against red brown brick
and begin to think
you are never going to show
but that's all old news
and I'm better now
no more idle thoughts
drinking up time
I'd rather spend twisting bottle caps
stacking rocks
all things new and easy
but it creeps in slow like a drug
some unrelenting itching
changing the flavor of the sky
the whiskey I've been drinking
so I scratch away the feeling
my skin is bleeding out
on to paper white as snow
I can't make out the meaning and
that last drink did a number
it's hard to breath
with a chisel inside my mind
carving out a million
ways to remember your name
this almost feels the same except
the music is all wrong