Albion

You know I could hear you sing all night long
Do you want to hear that I am still in love with you?
I am
And I know that your sheets smell of fever
And, no, I don't feel to clever
Is it possible to mend this?
A scratching and stained Dorian Gray
Heavy with the pounding illness
heavy with new clothes and a malady or love
New loves for you and the last post for me
Let's just make pacts and pay the prices
There is a lot of decay in this duality
Do you want to hear that I am shy in this regard?
I am
The problem is the truth, and the distance we have to go
All the mumbling fools that throws your words
The casual thoughts and memories strewn and thrown
Did the mirror drop and break on the anniversary
It tasted like sugar, those chemical dependencies
If only the crimson skins hid what was written on your skin
So you think you are well read?
And you think you can make up a whole new world?
Others have done it before you
You are not the original, although I do respect your little fantasy
And the Love you felt, I expect, was true
You were touched by what was important
You were touched by the dreams you had
The feelings grew strong and I guess it was enough for the both of us to see
Do you think I am not sorry?
I am
And the chills grow around the songs
And the great minds all fall asleep
So the thoughts grow like the flames in a fire
The hollow curve grows confused
There is a thought of physical love
There are thoughts of journals and burglaries
Old titles and words that should be left alone
There are no real lovers left in the world of music
There is merely the howling of the dead wind
The shadow of the previous men
And now there are rumours of mediocrity
We will see