The hands of fantasy
by Steven M Lacey
Thursday, May 02, 2002
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I grace the human race
With my smouldering hate
They’re not looking at me
Calmly, calmly, body shaking
All too self aware
The scent of the dark
The dreary desolate
And the piercing heat
When the novelty of this love
Has lost its shine
I find that I’m
Confronted with myself
When these strong arms
Have worn to their bones
And the trust in me
Shaken to its rotten core
Oh one more look
Spiraling pity gaze
I’ll have to turn away
Oh but where is home?
It’s not you I’m afraid of
But how can I run away
From myself?
Haven’t slept for days
Hiding under the covers
But light shines right through
You’re living in a dream
I’m trying to wake
From this nightmare
Yet somehow we’re the same
Clasped in the hands of fantasy
Oh one more look
Spiraling pity gaze
I’ll have to turn away
Oh but where is home?
It’s not you I’m afraid of
But how can I run away
From myself?
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