When A Coffin Sits At Home.

these pavements have solid memories when you can't write a novel from a bookshelf
and because the mother lays her head down upon her babies tears
a soul singer finds a song that was sung with a distant chord
underneath it, all the friction speaks about what's worth living for
remaining thoughtless and thinking about building up another storm
forever in telling lies in the fashion that is slowly becoming extinct
renewal we hope in the invasions of the brightest minds at last
in showing teachings which learn from the core of our souls
an expansion of time when we don't know how it started, when will it ever end?
questions drowned in a bottle on lonely life street with an apple in its mouth
steadily things are aimed at you and in knowing not to turn around and die
for stars are filled with people who think along those lines
choosing out the option we mistrust so little when a coffin sits at home
that becoming a little wiser in wisdom then another life is formed
with the growth of any language, mathematics appears to show up late
concerning factors are boiled and tossed aside when a number never worked
deep in as impossibilities will vanish into some type of illusional belief
we crossed hope over to the conviction of each other's realisations
that dreams are inventions from the past which, in turn, could commit a crime
allowance gave the pathways who struggle day in after day out to
worn out to a ground that appears to feel like paradise and right
so socks pulled the wool over your own reflection in life my friends
looking in the mirror, it was a light that showed the way tonight
followed eagerly by the prying eyes of evil
and that shall we fix it all together when the raindrops fall
in God, we trust for this life in beauty.