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Satellite: Music

Red

RED

You and I buried by angels
Compromised by our caretakers
Criticized by silent voices
Suicide seeking at outlet
As close as we can get
It’s not enough
I make a good target
So don’t touch

Peering in, it’s never easy
Walking tall, it buckles my knees
And drops me before you
That’s my disease
I’ll try not to bore you
With release

Sneaking up, well you took me by surprise
Finding you filling my insides
A voice that might carry me a bit farther
You’ve got worlds in your eyes I want to see
Quoting your jokes unconsciously
It’s better to wait right here
Instead
Of wrapped in Red

With a life so fast
A stop sign’s a haven
A resting-place for tired ideals
I think that it’s snowing
That’s how I feel
With apathy growing
Our spun wheels