by Vyncent Lime
Nothing is going on It's so silent I can hear right from wrong So quiet, I can see, written on the wall, the song
In bright lights that don't appear on film My own lonely testimony Only showing its opposite, crossing me Forcing me to settle for good enough
Once again and as always I procrastinate my gifts to lay And to suffer in my own silence Written on the wall in song
Flowing with the wind that doesn't belong Creating the illusion that I'm not wrong Yet I'm feeding my excuses all along I close my eyes to everyone Open them to be alone
My silence screams to comfort my sleep Because when I'm alone my hearing reaps What the darkness sows From there the stories flow Untrue but blaringly loud Unaffective but I feel every sound
When the silent film of the song on the wall blares my eyes, Finally, I realize Nothing is going on.