this love isn\'t true
just a swinging echo in remembrance
days by the lake, sunbathing
in museums, haunted by paintings
I drink to forget the pain of losing you
to numb myself and block out the smoke
broken clocks in a sea of virtuous eyeballs
rise to the surface of night, that ceremonial eclipse
shadowed by radiant light, hunting the grounds of our farewell
I look back and see my lungs, youthful prosperity
enclosed in self-doubt, letters to sanity
unforgiven, I vanish into wayward skies, adrift
darkness conquered by impurity
stars appear and everything is alright
yesterday is a blur in the chaos of my mind
impatient, credence through a keyhole survives
tranquil beaches drowning in empty sorrow
I fill rooms with heart-felt pages, bloodstained
light through mountains and wonders
this love isn\'t true
just a swinging echo in remembrance
days by the lake, sunbathing
in museums, haunted by paintings.