Bruises - Counterpunch

I see the edge and I’m getting closer

The stitches aren’t holding the seams

I’m hitting bottom but sinking further

White picket death machines

I’m done feeling sorry

Headed south on a broken wing

This shoulder’s getting colder

Broken bottles and broken dreams

Can’t wake up from this nightmare

This guilt is killing me

What’s to become of us?

What’s to become of me?

Light a match and walk away.

There’s nothing left here so why stay?

This place is dead to me

Life lived how could we stop it

Love lost on empty pockets

Pointing fingers in the wrong way

Captivated by the thought of sinking in

Eyes hung from hollow sockets

Bloodshot and out of solace

Keep calm and carry on

Pretend there’s nothing wrong

Let’s keep this clandestine

I know just what we need

Pack up these memories with a full frontal lobotomy

It’s not what you knew it’s what you can prove

I walk these streets with the diseased

The ghosts of who we are;

the ones we’ll never be

I wear these scars like antiseptic for my heart

These bruises will lose color

They’re not who you are

Can’t wake up from this nightmare

This guilt is killing me

What’s to become of us?

What’s to become of me?

Light a match and walk away

There’s nothing left here so why stay?

This place is dead to me

I walk these streets with the diseased

The ghosts of who we are;

the ones we’ll never be

I wear these scars like antiseptic for my heart

These bruises will lose color

They’re not who you are

We felt the bottom drop as we stood and watched

View from a window looking straight across

Static silence drowning out the noise

This is the eulogy

We had a little hope 'till it was lost

Life lived, love lost on a boulevard

Yes this is the eulogy of your friends and family

I walk these streets with the diseased

The ghosts of who we are;

the ones we’ll never be

I wear these scars like antiseptic for my heart

These bruises will lose color

They’re not who you are