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Standing in a shower of dust
In the mire of a tainted lust
Killing a few more minutes
Of a dying day

I am not who you think I am
Scraping on my eyeliner
Running with the tears
Escaping through such terrible beauty
As that summer breeze becomes a gale

Oh I can’t make it through
These dying days
Oh I can’t see through
This stifling haze

Beyond your years
You shouldn’t be crying those tears
Oh young at heart
And it always ends
So it always starts…again
Trodden on like dead leaves
In a perfect autumn cold

The warm glare of TV light
Once comforted my darkest nights
Now it seems as though
There’s a thousand deaths a second
Letting my thoughts run wild
In this dreary October drizzle

Oh I can’t make it through
These dying days
Oh I can’t see through
This stifling haze

This was written (believe it or not...) last October. October in England is cold and wet, summer is a memory and winter is looming. Nights are encroaching ever earlier and there's a real sense of void associated with the time of year. Recent and current events in both the world and my own life were also an inspiration.