Wax Words - With Warehouse Eyes

With warehouse eyes, I stand in your disguise,

Wondering if you’ll ever realize

That your matchbox soul

Is a flame beyond control.

 

And who paroles the spirit and the soul,

When there’s nothing much to hide?

Outside of suicide,

And Miss Mother Pride replies,

Miss Mother Pride replies:

 

Each and every day,

In your fine array,

With the words you say,

Judge and jury sway.

Victims to display,

Sentences to convey,

Lifetimes to mislay.

 

With warehouse eyes, I stand in your disguise,

Wondering if you’ll ever realize

That your matchbox soul is a flame beyond control,

Is a flame beyond control.

© 2010 Wax