(Hope) Is Just Another Word with a Hole in It

Funeral blues Even dirt weeps Blooming exit Brought to a freeze I have never bothered to look Inside myself To find myself On scribbled notes Every flower Thinks of me My pollination Resembles debris I have never bothered to look Inside myself To find myself On scribbled notes I have never bothered to look Inside myself To find myself On scribbled, cryptic notes A thousand faces Not one could replace A single soul Consumed by waste A thousand mirrors Reflect disgrace A house of cards Engulfed in flames A thousand faces Not one could replace A single soul Consumed by waste An off-white lie That's come undone Composing suffering That fall on ears of no one Of no-one Of no-one