Slip back into the coma,
In the catacombs of your darkest thoughts,
Feel the demons probe inside your mind,
Picking away with sharpened claws,
Searching for a memory,
From as far back as yesterday,
Oh, the damage twenty-four little hours can do,
When you're wasted in a melancholy muse.
So dark are the visions,
That swim through your lifeless eyes,
Trying to break the surface for a breath of air,
Fighting so hard to survive
Somewhere there's a dream,
It's caught up in the slipstream,
The backward turbulence of everything you've been through,
The violent remains of a melancholy muse.
A deep fear of genocide,
It seems the whole world's out to get you,
No one understands the pain you feel,
Can't break the shackles, or cut you loose
From the inverted thoughts,
Your mind keeps trying to abort,
The nonsensical madness that is feeding off your mood,
Deep within the shadow of a melancholy muse.
I vaguely remember a smile,
That once crossed your face, a long time ago,
When you were still so beautiful,
Before the torment blackened your soul,
So where did that person go?
I don't know who you are anymore,
Each time I look into the mirror to take a good look at you,
I slip back into the coma of a melancholy muse.
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