Veins pinned down by a stuttering mind Blood spills out, always pumping in time Voices cry harmoniously The haunted sound of melancholy
Then fast and furious, a glimmer of wisdom An epiphany, a lyrical mystery But like all things, the end comes too soon And all that’s left behind is a vague memory
Floating unconscious, a melody that glides A beat to the soul, hidden in our minds Never quite escaping, confined by a reason Inspiration slides in this Mirage of rhythm