Twelfth Stroke Of Midnight - Bury Your Dead

I can’t read between the lines

Of a letter

That you’ve never written

I can’t begin to compromise

On a problem

That you have invented

Dead stares cut a paper heart

And beats ink in these pages

Letters written in regret

To many lifeless faces

This is the end of me

I am running on empty

Hours spent pouring over these words

With nothing gained

All that was lost with nothing learned

I’m just feeling drained

This is taking so much out of me

I am doubting my place as of late

I wish I could make this

Paper heart come alive

All my time spent on

Writing this living lie

All my time spent on this lie