1. |
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The early hours, the black dog slinks
into consciousness, denying sleep
Pervading greyness, stuporforic fuge
impossible rationale, eyes weep.
Disassociation from the world
mental castration, a lithium state
Zombie shuffle, unable to wake
Death in life the chemical fate.
Another Blue Monday, the weight of the world
upon your shoulders, feeling through pain
Feeling such guilt at your part in the plan
you inwardly rage, repeat the day again.
A worthless existence, the smothering embrace
rational dead end, your soul must break
Irritation fed by ignorant words
hollow platitudes, too much to take.
Another Blue Monday and your heart will break
neurological tiredness, it’s too much to take
Don’t know the answer to escape the pain
you take the pills keeping you restrained.
Trapped inside this cerebral prison
Silent scream inside your mind
Inwardly rage at the despair
Rattle mental chains that bind.
Twisted thoughts hold you down
Confined in this mental cell
Confusion reigns inside your head
Unable to articulate who could you tell?
Sinking in a black pool of despair
In the safety this self built cell
As the waters now close over
Is there no one here to help?
Someone to hold you and understand
Heal the pain felt inside
Help exorcise the demons within
A hand to hold and be a guide
Bleeding out your self is fading
Feeling sanity fade away
Desperately reaching for some kind of help
To get through another Blue Monday.
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2. |
The Man in the Mirror
07:09
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Fingers touch, the frosted glass
drawing patterns, in the mist
Coldness numbing, finger tips
mirrored lives, that co-exist
Hollow eyes, their mocking stare
veil within, their hidden deceit
What do they know? I cannot say
knowledge is so, incomplete
The Man in the Mirror
looks back at me
The Man in the Mirror
what does he see?
A mirrored image
my reflected soul
The Man in the Mirror
who’s in control?
Close my eyes, block the stare
ponder the lies, that I see
Scornful gaze, echoed in glass
must find the truth, to set me free
Replicating the gaze again
wake to expose, veracity
Reverse imitation, mocking me
questioning my mental capacity
The Man in the Mirror
looks back at me
The Man in the Mirror
what does he see?
A mirrored image
my reflected soul
The Man in the Mirror
who’s in control?
Tears leak, from bloodshot eyes
exhaustion lines, no time to rest
Need to regain, control again
before insanity, is manifest
I cannot recall, what I have done
no evidence, of what is sought
Me or him, who did these deeds?
no idea of, what he thought
The Man in the Mirror
looks back at me
The Man in the Mirror
what does he see?
A mirrored image
my reflected soul
The Man in the Mirror
who’s in control?
Now facing, a conundrum to
escape the future, regain control
I must awake, smash the glass
and free my tortured, mirrored soul
Bloodied shards, reflection smashed
what the hell, do they signify?
Have I escaped, the reflected curse?
a thousand faces, a mirrored lie
The Man in the Mirror
looks back at me
The Man in the Mirror
what does he see?
A mirrored image
my reflected soul
The Man in the Mirror
who’s in control?
The Man in the Mirror
laughs back at me
The Man in the Mirror
is the monster me?
A mirrored image
my imprisoned soul
The Man in the Mirror
have I lost control?
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3. |
Something's Happening
04:00
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Ladies and gentlemen (Am I on?). Ladies and gentlemen, here I am, back of a stone wall that adjoins Mr. Wilmuth's garden. From here I get a sweep of the whole scene. I'll give you every detail as long as I can talk. As long as I can see.
More state police have arrived They're drawing up a cordon in front of the pit, about thirty of them. No need to push the crowd back now. They're willing to keep their distance. The captain is conferring with someone. We can't quite see who. Oh yes, I believe it's Professor Pierson. Yes, it is. Now they've parted. The Professor moves around one side, studying the object, while the captain and two policemen advance with something in their hands. I can see it now. It's a white handkerchief tied to a pole . . . a flag of truce. If those creatures know what that means . . . what anything means!. . .
Wait! Something's happening! A humped shape is rising out of the pit. I can make out a small beam of light against a mirror. What's that? There's a jet of flame springing from the mirror, and it leaps right at the advancing men. It strikes them head on! Good Lord, they're turning into flame!
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Saul Blease Bristol, UK
Multi-instrumentalist and singer / songwriter from sunny Bristol creating new music that fuses together elements of alternative, heavy and industrial rock, with splashes of electronica.
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