Oxidized iron, down in the basement dark, My brain is just a rattle... waiting for a spark. Total pitch black, not a flicker, not a glint, I’m searching for a feeling, just a shadow or a hint. I’m a hollowed-out-vessel on a cold-concrete-floor, Listening for the footsteps... but they never reach the door. Sub-bass heartbeat through the basement wall, A muffled march for the ones who stand tall. They’re rushing to a rhythm on the pavement overhead, While I’m down here counting all the things I never said. A fever-dream-tempo, a thud and a blur, The world is a motion that I can’t... quite... stir. Who made me think that I could solve this? The pressure is on... It makes me feel... DIZZY. If you could pour the sun into a vessel made of rust, Would the sadness turn to gold, or just settle into dust? I’m open to the ceiling, but the ceiling’s out of sight, Just a lonely piece of metal, in the middle of the night. [Stop] I’m wide open... (Wait for the pour) I’m wide open... Scattered fragments... a mess on the floor, I’m not the vessel... I was before. SHARP enough to cut, SHARP enough to bleed, I’m SCRAP METAL now... nothing that you need. No one dares to reach... No one dares to try... They see the jagged edges... and they just pass by. If you could pour the sun into a vessel made of rust, Would the sadness turn to gold, or just settle into dust? I’m open to the ceiling, but the ceiling’s out of sight, Just a lonely piece of metal, in the middle of the night. I’m still here. Scrap metal in the dark. Broken handle, jagged parts. But I’ll be waiting... ...until. someone. dares.
