Counting the Days
Bold and shaded gray
Short and loathing
With one days pay
Sifting through your old treasures
My ransom is sold
You were the first bidder
I count the days
Handsome bullets hide in the chamber
Like a termite it eats away at the structure
Saving moments
Trading memories
Closing doors
Opening windows
Somehow its all left to be
Breathing the air we cannot see
Is there anyone else
That could one day be me
Enslaving what i so wish to free