Water of My Aches
Benjamin James Roberts
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I've got nothing but the taste of your evanescent breath Sitting on my tongue, like how the devil used to wait for my death Making all your answers, rhyme with heroism Whilst your reality was riddled with skepticism Masquerade your sadness in your own home Burn beneath the sun under your own stone Brush the last of the dust off of your bones And breathe And breathe I've been swamped by all my answers, and strangled by the reeds Of unidentified options, I've been almost scared to breath Drowning in the water of my aches Flipping through the pages of the things I couldn't take Masquerade your sadness in your own home Burn beneath the sun under your own stone Brush the last of the dust off of your bones And breathe And breathe Masquerade your sadness in your own home Burn beneath the sun under your own stone Brush the last of the dust off of my bones And breathe And breathe I've got nothing but the taste of your evanescent breath Sitting on my tongue, like how the devil used to wait for my death
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