Unspoken raindrops cloud the cotton pillow case.
Lines of mascara all trying to win a race.
Late nights, early mornings developed by empty cause,
Holes in the engine shatter circuit boards.
Unlevied by the tension, heighten by suspension,
Unspoken rain drops cloud the cotton pillow case.
How do you, why do you, why should you?
Come on stop it.
I think the mascara won,
Eyes burn like they've been blazed by the sun.
Why can't you tell me.
Oh well. The shits done.