BLACK LUNG SERENADE
CAN BE BITTER
CAN BE COURSE
I SING IT OFTEN TO THESE WALLS
EMPTY
BUT YET FULL OF REMORSE
SMOKE POURS FROM MY LIPS
AND LINGERS IN THE AIR
CRASHING AND SWIRLING
REMINDING ME OF YOUR HAIR
MY VOICE CRACKS
LIKE LIGHTNING IN A SUMMER SKY
IT IS HERE ALONE
THAT THESE FEELINGS MUST DIE
AS I LOOK INTO THE MIRROR
I SEE A STRANGER STANDING BEFORE ME
HE OFFERS SOME RESEMBLANCE
BUT YET THE FIGURE IS AN EMPTY SHELL
IT IS NOW THAT I MUST SHAPE AND MOLD MYSELF
DO I SING ANOTHER BLACK LUNG SERENADE
OR BECOME SOMTHING ELSE
LESSONS FROM YOU I WILL TAKE
AND BUILD SOMETHING MUCH STRONGER
THESE FEELINGS
ILL PUSH DEEP
LOCKED AWAY
BEHIND MY ARMOUR
.jpg)