6 o'clock
• Written by Reaper
I've been going with the vibe.
Taking all the bull shit in strides.
Waiting when the clock ticks.
Praying that this drops quick.
And finally save my soul the pain of losing myself whole.
Certain words told is redundant.
Like why's a caged bird suddenly beautiful in a dungeon.
I won't take questions but I'll take riddles.
What's hard to mention on pins and needles?
They say they love you but they don't need you.
They told the world even when I pleaded.
I'm not the only one conceited.
It's a burden with these chains.
Every summer something changed.
Memories of a dark night.
I've been going up hills since around five so I'm alright.
6 o'clock , 6 o'clock, 6 o'clock.
My pot was boiling over and nobody stopped.
I grew up listening.
Cleaning up misunderstandings.
Secretly day after day they snatched the hope away.
I made my bed without a place to rest my head.
I trusted and they ruined.
Everybody wants their point proven.
I forgived and let lived.
I dreamed while the bridge declined.
Have, I guess, a friend that told me smile.
I did but it wasn't my style.
She figured if I followed I wouldn't be so hollow.
Truth is she could only care about lavishes.
So they became my subconscious hostages.
Think about them all the time.
I wonder why they never showed the signs.
Why do my eyes see them undisguised?
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About the Artist
Reaper
Member since November 26 2013