we live in a sphere
of spiralling tension
and solitary silence
too private to mention
we feel for eachother
but sleep on our own
like sister, like brother
the flesh on the bone
and we talk about people
we don't really know
like the men on the moon
or the stars of the show
we serve out our sentences
second-hand words
like the crumbs of stale bread
that we feed to the birds
we never leave our ground, we're waiting to be found
circular motion
we never make a sound, we just go round and round and round
circular silence
we ask ourselves questions
rehearse our replies
read the lines on our hands
the escape in our eyes
our world is as blue
as the blood in our veins
our memories fading
like sunlight, like stains
not a sky in the clouds
just a mountain to climb
and a monochrome rainbow
with a gold-plated rhyme
now the shadows grow longer
with every day
as we hide from our feelings
while love slips away
we think we're so profound, we watch our world circum around
circular motion
we make those sickly silent sounds, as we sink slowly underground
circular silence
so the circle grows smaller
but why should we care?
we can move r
o
u
n
d the co
r
n
e
r
and live
e
r i
auqs a n
