Its a road that seems to represent a hill in Time,
Steep Drop Highway without the Difficult Climb,
And Now the Dust Kicks Into Bitter Sunshine,
Holding Back Lyrical Emotions, Divided By an Almost Morbid Guideline.
You Know, I Can’t Remember Where I Was Before We Met?
Living For Small Moments of Clarity and Occasional Begging For Respect,
Like the Tree that grew from a burnt out seed, Or The Rose in Winter Trying To breath.
Every Moving Picture along the following months has been of you smiling,
Trying hard to stumble so I don’t miss any glimpse of your heart before it started dividing.
I've Camped 3 days and now the road seems to be wider,
I’m losing the comfort of the warmth I felt lying beside her.
And like my heart I decide to keep from breaking,
Give anything to stop this fragile soul for the future I have to start making.
And It’s a bitch trying to save,
From losing your grip and carving that stone over your grave
Steep Drop Highway without the Difficult Climb,
And Now the Dust Kicks Into Bitter Sunshine,
Holding Back Lyrical Emotions, Divided By an Almost Morbid Guideline.
You Know, I Can’t Remember Where I Was Before We Met?
Living For Small Moments of Clarity and Occasional Begging For Respect,
Like the Tree that grew from a burnt out seed, Or The Rose in Winter Trying To breath.
Every Moving Picture along the following months has been of you smiling,
Trying hard to stumble so I don’t miss any glimpse of your heart before it started dividing.
I've Camped 3 days and now the road seems to be wider,
I’m losing the comfort of the warmth I felt lying beside her.
And like my heart I decide to keep from breaking,
Give anything to stop this fragile soul for the future I have to start making.
And It’s a bitch trying to save,
From losing your grip and carving that stone over your grave
Edward Ramsden
25/2/2008
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