BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
Sunday
- Sunday
- It was Sunday morning...
- My first thought was to peek between the blinds
- The sky was orange, dawn barely creeped behind
- The Sun arose amongst the carnage to breathe an endearing light
- And I couldn’t do much but exhaust my emotion and be deprived
- Of sleep, wipe off all the excess
- Grab the water I had resting next to my bed
- Then I slowly slip out of the blanket
- Ruffle the hair on my head, crack my neck and the next second I’m standing
- Go to the bathroom to wash up trying to remember exactly what happened
- And the fact is, again and again I’m always asking for the same answers
- From the same old question, was it worth it?
- Still blood on my hands
- Nothing good come from that
- I slowly look up again
- Check my face, check my body, I’m a fucking disaster
- As the blood runs, the soap comes after
- And after that I’m leaving the bathroom
- With the towel over my shoulder smouldered in ash
- That stained my body after it happened, I’m full of regret...
- I stumble over with this overbearing weight
- A look all over my face telling tales that my mouth wouldn’t say
- My eyes are red and deep set, barely knowing that I’m awake
- And so my fingers slip between the curtains, the pole groans as they’re pulled away
- My attention motions over the orange cast ocean of our distaste
- Street lights barely can breathe light
- It almost seems like
- I can still see the body if only I squint right
- I pull my own body away before the devil inside comes to realise
- He was right all along
- Momma I’m sorry your baby’s gone
- Father tried but he did the same when he was young
- So I’m just living life as a consequence of his outcomes
- Or maybe I be a man and admit what I did
- I don’t know if I’m mad that it happened or simply glad that it did
- A weight on my shoulders, or something that helped me ascend
- I try to look out with a grin but I don’t feel worthy of the Sun
- I slip back in again
- I understand the burden I handle, it dismantled the grasp I had on the kid
- That lived inside of me, for better or for worse
- Every single time that he, tried to surface I had to restrict the urge
- Since that night I see, nothing but hurt, my feet sink in earth
- Even standing upon a carpet, my eyes descend to my feet
- What’s the point in pretending, I should just accept that I’m weak
- This day was made for resting, and God I know you said it
- But today is for recollecting, perhaps to even repent it
- ‘Cos today is Sunday, but yesterday was the ending
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