Smeared images.

Paper dolls play out the scenes I am nervous about.
Attempt to hang the thoughts up, to dry out, without the cost.
Of being so scared... of a little paranoid, fearing fear itself.

Tap the shoulders of those who sleep in church.
They rest when they should fight for their lives.
The priest comes round with the basket of bread. (Calling...)
Put your hand in to eat the dead, condemn yourself faithfully.

Paper dolls play around and about, these classic thoughts.
Brought up by anyone with a soul, if not then you don't know better.

Can you play cool? Just say your tired, of everything...
Your hiding the cure, a junkie to the reaction.
What a shocking revelation I have discovered.

Ten thoughts all strung out over a smeared painting.
I've got to get it together, she is waiting. For bad news.

There is so much to talk about. Why are you sitting so close?
Why are you so near, its my nervousness I fear.
Cause I know you'll burn me with your touch. (It says so...)
If you don't let go your cross will burn, he is telling you.

He's telling you.

Paper dolls of ten different thoughts, dance.
Around the weak spots and dark corners.
I sit inside rocking, painting the smeared images.
She doesn't know, she's waiting...
For bad news.

Reviews

[Wildfleour]

This does have a song quality to it. I could actually visualize the video.

[Jessica :D]

What a wonderful poem. It reads like a song. :]