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Description
useless with all the air in my lungs and not one word to say
for when the days end like lullabies and night begins like a dream
fabricated beside you, my happy little lie
slumber takes me prisoner, a case of stockholm syndrome
sunlight is the torturer, an agent of reality
it blows out my candle with its red and pink clouds
the flame is gone but the evidence remains
the smoke is fleeting, the wax still drips
and the candle gets shorter every day.

Description
useless with all the air in my lungs and not one word to say
for when the days end like lullabies and night begins like a dream
fabricated beside you, my happy little lie
slumber takes me prisoner, a case of stockholm syndrome
sunlight is the torturer, an agent of reality
it blows out my candle with its red and pink clouds
the flame is gone but the evidence remains
the smoke is fleeting, the wax still drips
and the candle gets shorter every day.