Brian Paone

Author // Musician

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Clock tick, clock tick, clock tick, clock tick...

Clock tick those hours away
Awake and dying, still no sleeping
No hope, relief in sight
Shotgun's breathing, numb with feeling
Why must it always be like
Awake and dying, still no sleeping
Crawl into what you've become
Shotgun's breathing, numb with feeling (you)

What if I could hide in insect ways
What if we could return to those days
Wonder how it would feel to be free
Wonder how everyone would think of me

Let the insects take me back to their ways
Let the insects take me back to their ways

Clock tick those hours away
Awake and dying, still no sleeping
No hope, relief in sight
Shotgun's breathing, numb with feeling
Why must it always be like
Awake and dying, still no sleeping
Crawl into what you've become
Shotgun's breathing, numb with feeling (you)

What if I could hide in insect ways
What if we could return to those days
Wonder how it would feel to be free
Wonder how everyone would think of me
...or fade away

Focus our eyes on this spotlight
Hiding behind all the black doors
Focus our eyes on this spotlight
Hiding behind all the black doors

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All content © 2014, Brian Paone