Your Memories Bleed

"And time was a blur, punctuated with a stir
It was always cause of her, and always was never enough
You start thinking about, all the times you’ve spent without
It begets a seed of doubt, in the clockwork peach in your soul
And your memories bleed, and your pulse is gaining speed
All these thoughts are a disease, and poetry’s one of the flesh

And now the world seems strange, all your thoughts are rearranged
You’re feeling quite estranged, oh I hate remembering
And you’re distorting pictures and dislodging fixtures
And creating mixtures of truth and reality
And now your heart’s palpitating, as your world’s disintegrating
You begin to start hating, the things that make life... life"