Shadows shining on the wall
The only scenes of change at all in the prisoner's plight
Camera obscura, pinhole of light
The only sensation of sight in the ever-night
A desert rose blooms all alone
Deserted rooms don't make a home
Averted soon won't last too long
Where there's no light, there is no flame
No shadows on the wall to blame
For things that turn out wrong
Sirens screaming in my head
Byron's comforting in an otherwise empty bed
Artifice all around surrounds my soul
Partitions insulate, protect the hole from the bite of cold
Culture's in my head and in my nose
Still a chill no matter what the clothes
Closed the doors long time ago
Slow death eroding from within
No sense of foreboding when atrophy sets in
The limbs are the first to go
Byron and Me Video (MV)
Dave Turnbow - Byron and Me Lyrics
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Shadows shining on the wall
The only scenes of change at all in the prisoner's plight
Camera obscura, pinhole of light
The only sensation of sight in the ever-night
A desert rose blooms all alone
Deserted rooms don't make a home
Averted soon won't last too long
Where there's no light, there is no flame
No shadows on the wall to blame
For things that turn out wrong
Sirens screaming in my head
Byron's comforting in an otherwise empty bed
Artifice all around surrounds my soul
Partitions insulate, protect the hole from the bite of cold
Culture's in my head and in my nose
Still a chill no matter what the clothes
Closed the doors long time ago
Slow death eroding from within
No sense of foreboding when atrophy sets in
The limbs are the first to go
The only scenes of change at all in the prisoner's plight
Camera obscura, pinhole of light
The only sensation of sight in the ever-night
A desert rose blooms all alone
Deserted rooms don't make a home
Averted soon won't last too long
Where there's no light, there is no flame
No shadows on the wall to blame
For things that turn out wrong
Sirens screaming in my head
Byron's comforting in an otherwise empty bed
Artifice all around surrounds my soul
Partitions insulate, protect the hole from the bite of cold
Culture's in my head and in my nose
Still a chill no matter what the clothes
Closed the doors long time ago
Slow death eroding from within
No sense of foreboding when atrophy sets in
The limbs are the first to go
Writer: David Turnbow
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid