Another silhouette against the morning light
Another shadow in the corner of your eye
Slipping out of view
Spots in your vision, old ghosts to remind you
Find your place in the shade
Dawn casting rays upon your scarred and troubled face
The new day has come
Casting silhouettes in shape of days dead and gone
Flowered words won’t make fact from fancy
Don’t waste your words on me
Have to learn to pick the fights you might have a chance to win
I see what lies behind the lace
A void of intelligence
Repugnant charlatan
Shyster
Mountebank
I see your face, you vapid little fake
Suffocated by the weight of ages
Countless words stain countless pages
Emotional array
Signal scattered
Tower crashes
Babel soon to break
Crashing like waves upon the rocks
Death of definition
Meaning, all but lost
thInkStains 