Scenes in a Film

I still remember all the painted pictures and broken windows,
Black and white scenes, only remember the memories.

The cracks in the streets I’d always skip in the morning,
And the sand in the beach that burned the skin of my feet.

There was a time by the river I still think could’ve changed,
But why should I linger on those I’ve already estranged?

None of these things could ever change who I am,
But they stay longer than the gardens that I built with my hands

And it’s sad to think- if I replayed my whole life,
Like scenes in a film under filters and lights,

I’d find those in which I’m happy as surprising as tonight;
In the way that I knew that they would somehow arrive...

Just not here...
And not now.
No, not here
And not now!

This indifference towards solitude, and the want for something more
Has left me suspended between the ceiling and the floor.
Because nothing bad changes, and what's worth it comes with time, so
Why does it scare me to claim this life as mine?

When I’m gone I’m gone, and I’ll never come back,
At least not without the knowledge of all the things that I lack.

You’ll continue to claim that I must like it this way,
But there’s nothing I want more than for it all to be erased.

I read a sign on the street written black that reads
”Maybe now that I'm blind, they'll finally leave."

I'll never know what it meant to them
But I know how it spoke to me...

I've been spending all my time reframing my mind
But this guilt & other afflictions tell me I'm wasting my time

I went back to that place in the picture of us
Taken before the days you said “Enough is enough.

We can talk about this and any one of your haunts,
I’m here for you, all your needs, and your wants.

Just not here, and not now."
Just not here
And not now

This indifference towards solitude, and the want for something more
Has left me suspended between the ceiling and the floor.
Because nothing bad changes, and what's worth it comes with time, so
Why does it scare me to claim this life as mine?

When I’m gone I’m gone, and I’ll never come back,
At least not without the knowledge of all the things that I lack.
You’ll continue to claim that I must like it this way,
But there’s nothing I want more than to be remembered

And every time that I’m in this house I’m drenched in cold and constant changes
I’ve seen the holes that dot the walls of every room like constellations
I place my hands over the cracks. They have a name, and many faces
It’s just a map, of all my fears, all my doubts and their foundations

And I created it
But I’m still lost
Bruised and fading
And at what cost?

What do I give? To whom do I owe? To who do I seem to have sold my soul
Why can’t I see? Where have I gone? How can I be the person I’ve become?
Where are you, God? What worth has your word? 40 days and 40 nights, and still no-one has come

I read a sign on the street written in black that reads, ”Maybe now that I'm blind, they'll finally leave"
Maybe I’ve lost any worth that I’d gotten
But I refuse to believe that I’ll be forgotten

So capture these moments in color and sound
Maybe someone will find it profound
I’ll transcend the times, and all the moments I’m etched in
I will flow like the tides, endless yet embedded

And someday they’ll notice the rocks laid beneath
Dance just like the waters that are changing in me.

I'm fading in and out of frame
And I can almost see it
It's in my grasp

I'm fading in and out of frame
And I can almost see it
It's in my grasp

I'm fading in and out...