Composure
Respira
GENRE
A common practice of questioning sanity
You step in front of the mirror and say:
Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not joking
Whatever happened to when I could bury this?
Or had the means to bite down and carry it?
Whatever happened to when I could bury this
At least with some composure
I’ll claim my imbalance, and then never walk out on the beam
But I should make this vague
It’s the more efficient way to hide that “this” means nothing
This is your soundtrack
This is your fill
This is the last of your diminishing skill
This is ramble you arrange with your hands
This is the laughter to what you had planned
You step in front of the mirror and say:
Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not joking
Whatever happened to when I could bury this?
Or had the means to bite down and carry it?
Whatever happened to when I could bury this
At least with some composure
I’ll claim my imbalance, and then never walk out on the beam
But I should make this vague
It’s the more efficient way to hide that “this” means nothing
This is your soundtrack
This is your fill
This is the last of your diminishing skill
This is ramble you arrange with your hands
This is the laughter to what you had planned
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