Grey Turning, Gold Turning Light - The Morning Of

The gears inside me grind,

to a rhythm that makes these sparks fly in my mind.

I make myself beautiful wih an absensce of complextion.

Cynical with hopes and dreams,

my white flag is raised and in this scheme,

I see the start to a new direction.`

Though failure is fleeting,

now the atmosphere’s retreating

Come on baby dive right in,

lets sin with a little skin on skin,

oh i’ve been knocking all night

but you still won’t let me in.

Come on baby dive right in,

lets sin with a little skin on skin,

ill make you finish first

and then i’ll add your ego in.

they scarcely corragate the surface with a wind of accidental burden,

we all wear lips that are cold bruised overused in tales of racy pasquinade

The wind might catch me,

capture and dispatch me