If you blink you'll miss the best part,
With the cumbersome weight of his broken heart.
So says the caesura, she might be right.
He just might lose it all tonight.
I'm sorry I'm such an ongoing case of imperfection,
A gallery of mistakes.
But the way she shakes, those inhuman quakes,
As the wind chill begins to drop.
The irony is not lost on me,
That her time spent is measured in soliloquy.
Fallacies that words present.
The ones that I resent.
If they're truly heaven sent, then I forgot what those words meant.
Leaning over the waterfall,
To watch the jealousy she creates cascade and erode the sharp rocks below.
The temperature drops and soon so will she.
But if you blink you'll miss the show.
The wind chill hurts her face on the way down.
She shakes those inhuman quakes.
But the irony is not lost on me.
She's sorry.
She'll never darken anyone's doorstep again,
And she's imperfect at terminal velocity.
credits
from Winter,
released January 7, 2015
Instrumental by: Phillip Colby
Lyrics by: Jon Mills
Chicago deathcore outfit Into the Silo torch everything in sight on this searing new LP with riffs that will leave bruises. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 21, 2022