My attempt at writing in britpop.
This is... Inertia Pareidolia:
Sitting at a window.
Rewinding and forwarding the view.
Even while it's bleeding out.
Still life creaking, high rising, falling hard at you.
Missing what it's all about.
Sea-glass forget-me-nots wash into the picture,
From the eternal, uncharted wave,
Her driftwood voice, slow quotes scripture.
Jesus would come again for the head she gave.
I'm seeing faces in the time that passes by the door
oh-oh-oh
Are they from a future I will never see anymore?
Sliding the abacus.
Counting out bad dreams.
Taking register when they return home.
Horizons narrow, hands reach cold walls as she leaves.
Lost eyes will always be burnt holes.
Man way up in his moon puts down songs of sorrow.
They're limited and out of tune.
Morbidly listening in to heartbeats in the afterglow
of love long since abandoning the room.
I'm seeing faces in the afterlife that walk by everyday
hey-hey-hey
Are they ghosts of the usual or have something new to say?
Watering houseplants.
They keep dying one by one.
Even while they're blooming.
Words picked for their beauty of lovers to listen.
Birth roots dirty and ripped open.
Is that the sound of rainfall, or is it the typewriter
stripping petals to their waist?
"Restlessly pulling at bedclothes, I recognise her.
In creased sheets: her taste."
I'm seeing faces in the static received by my tv screen
yeah-yeah-yeah
Are they reflections, premonitions or moving in-between?
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