Klokker Tramp

Staring at my reflection
That lies as much as I do.
Reminding myself
To keep the mask from slipping.
Afraid to see
What lies beneath the foundations.
Is there anything left but decay?
Is there anything left of me?

My kingdom.
Oh, my kingdom for an answer
To this cancer deep inside
That I invented.
A half-life I invited
A glass heart I constructed.
And no path that leads to home.

And I am calling.
Calling to God to save me
From my crushing guilt.
From the jagged pieces of my soul.
And I can near his laughter clearly.
Is he laughing with me, or at me?
And I guess it's fucking fitting
Either way.

How I plead.
How I desperately want to believe
That we are more than mere marionettes
Dancing on ethereal strings
Held by no one.
And yet the Puppets Dream I hold close
Just wanting to be real
For one brief moment.

Even after so many years
I can still feel the old wounds bleed.
And every step I take
Seems to remove me from myself.
The old me is dead.
The new stillborn.
And I'm caught somewhere in between
The grave and the azure sky.

The sand in the hourglass runs low.
Let it fall.
Let it fall.
I never wanted to be me anyway.