It's 10 Pm

I, was created by the dance of nostalgia and stupid pride I, held captive by eyes Pinned me down and shaped my style I suit up and fade out to a world of nothing My pilot is on sick leave now We're in the realm of nowhere Just the music playing To the rhythm of the ticking clock When I close my eyes it's 10 pm, and it's too late to sing From morning's light till evening's dark all in vain I've grown old, I have no fight to redo my design But what do I do when it's 10? I, was altered To the artless edible I used to hate Days, fuse and collide Yet I know I'm I, regardless of my hairstyle. You think I'd be growing, overcoming Yet I decay where no one sees me With closed eyes, it's ten at night Monotony repeats, again and again. Too late for song, too late to dream, It's ten at night