Feather of Lead

A shadow of the sun a silhouette created by a sunset One more summer has came and went and I'm sitting inbetween the hours of 8 and 9 miserable and lonely Is it me Is it me to get screwed over aimlessly tied in a knot of pretty little bow on top of a brand new shredder Oh no, there's one of my strands caught here I go into the cascade of oblivion Is it me Is it me to lay here, stuck in a timeless routine I could predict every step of my life name all the things I would do down to the key the hours and times I would end and begin again to find a source of idiotic entertainment Is it me, is it me Why is this me I could blame every inch of this city I could blame every inch of this city I could point all my fingers at this blistering heat but it would just look like I'm bowing down in submission to the sun but it would just look like there's something massively wrong with me Is there something massively wrong with me I just want to go back home but I would just be the same wreck as I am now I just want to go back home but I'd still be me, moping in someone's elses grief I'd still be me getting screwed over by more cunning minds or just the less naive As morbid as it seems the days I live sometimes just makes me want to abruptly shut my eyes and never open them again the poetic mind I bear which never ceases these endless visions these endless memories I'd rather forget and never remember I can't chuckle at the things that point the knife in back and turns to where I can't run away, paralyzed I have a fear of drowning I've mentioned it before I just want to buy an ocean and float on my back float on my back, sail to a distant island or close my eyes and sink like a feather of lead... These summer days aren't how these used to be