Prisoner in your own home, with only the Milky Way to look up to. Or you can leave the house really, but still a prisoner as you are barred from what used to look normal to you. It feels great if you can fight it, up to the extent that you can, really...

Shackles (To the Milky Way)

Somewhere on the way
On the inevitable injunction
That was grooming a forever
Of abysmal dysfunction

It left me on a chain
With a malevolent kiss
Taking and leaving a
Disquieting taste

Of cold and moist saliva
But now I can get away
From this rhythm of the day
Singing downbeat songs
To the Milky Way

The tugging of the beast
Tearing on the shackles
The wounds on his feet
They must heal again
The tugging of the beast
Tearing on the nails
The blood on his hands
Will dry up again

Somewhere on the way
The inevitable confusion
Between sirens and alerts
Getting ready for that boat where

I needn't feel my feet again
Don't know if they're still on me
I guess I'm leaving tracks of
Malodorous pus

On a sentimental pavement
Of imaginary waves
To break this rhythm of the day
Singing hopeful songs
To the Milky Way

    Rock, progressive rock, heavy
    • Type: Original
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