The Grey

The demons are at bay But for how long When will the next mirror Sing its wretched, accursed song Crawl out from the chamber Lurk beneath my skin Stare back in disgust And torture me again It's the fear when the knots begin to slip And the dread between my tired fingertips And the wake left from the quiver on my lips A shrine of broken hope And wasted dreams Mocking all I ever was And all I'll ever be A hollow nest of empty deeds So many left undone Words that go unspoken A scar for every one It's the fear when the knots begin to slip And the dread between my tired fingertips And the wake left from the quiver on my lips Envy of untold corridors And the emptiness of ghosts Hell is holding on To remaining threads of hope when my demons unfurl their blackened wings And carry me away Just let us pass on by It really is ok It's the fear when the knots begin to slip And the dread between my tired fingertips And the wake left from the quiver on my lips