Travelling Deamons

Does this soul have something, anything for anyone? 
Memories surve me right and wrong 
All I feel and know 
Is for I to be unwanted 
 
No treasured bodies await me 
My fingers turn in deamon form 
Everything I touch turns to stone 
 
Anything that surrounds me 
Falls like ash upon the ground 
Dark, chalk like charcoal... just sitting on the ground 
 
There's no where I can go 
The underworld was my home 
But it no longer allows me to breath 
I need to escape, I know I must leave 
 
Now in this new land above 
I find myself a freak 
Feeling this way, alone 
I feel out of place... a geek 
 
My hair burnt to a crisp 
It stays silent, washed out in the rain 
Unnoticed by all -- no turning heads today 
 
My face, pale and lacking life 
I try to hide underneath 
But I tumble and fall flat down on my face 
My heart fails, and I'm down pressing on my knees 
 
These eyes, they feel darkened 
Lost out at sea 
Some say to be red as oak 
Burning in the flames 
 
Yet to me, it feels somehow 
After being in the darkened day 
and being seen as the devil himself 
My eyes are left standing, somewhere in the grey

by lonedevil on 30 Jun 2005 at 20:35

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