Lock Your Heart

Please help, dearest agony I can't resist,
I feel I'm choking in a crimson mist
and it's looking sort of fatalistic.

Cry, like the pictures of the portraits here
like the stabbing of the hairless brush
in the ravings of the hairless old guy.

Lock, lock your heart, your heart away.
Lock, lock your heart, your heart away.

I'm lost, like the patterns in the daisies core
on the meadow of a sun dropped day
and I'm nodding like waifs of grass there.

Down, it's a sycamore of listless fate
and a crackle on the chinese plate.
I never really wanted isolation.

Lock, lock your heart, your heart away.
Lock, lock your heart, your heart away.

Failed. All the pressure on me to perform
is a factor in the dead of dawn.
It's a living but I don't like living
here.
Hear?
No.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.