Make It Grey

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Lifestory: Monologue

5:20

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I have stumbled into my decisions
Mumbled the finality with uncertainty
Am I moving forward as sure as I seem
Or are my steps guided blindly?
I know my right follows after my left
But what are all the steps in between?
I can’t close a single door and the breeze swelling inside my home is chilling to the bone
Their skinny fictional fingers finding
Every nook and cranny of my body
Piercing, boring into my being
To the point where I can’t think a thought without assuming she’s softly sound asleep
Giver give me colour. I will take anything
Painter, my palette is empty
But my brush won’t seem to stop
I would kill for that kind of peace
If I could only hide murder in my conscience
But peace will not find me
Isn’t the warmth the same as the alter candle’s flame?
Isn’t the comfort worth more than the minister’s words?

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