Well written, drought in the Nights.
Forgotten were your fears, when you fell asleep tonight.
Hidden in the Shadows, all of your angry thoughts;
haven't you remembered? all that you have forgot?
It's right around the corner,
Those doubts you tend to suffice;
You realize that you are the cowards?
Sought after once you fall asleep at night?
Denied by all of your yesterdays,
and tomorrow won't get any better.
The lot of you are perfectly happy,
with finding peace in things that fetter.
Forget about your once true dreams;
you've already let them go, by what it seems.
Mysteries in the clouds as you see the Sun disappear...
For every time you've been rewritten;
you've given up for many tears.
Covering your face at night, hiding in the dark;
there's nothing you can even do,
when chased and spoken to by the Meadowlark.
Returned from the grave, your past thoughts disappeared,
now that you are up this morning,
all that you have wished for, has turned into fears.
Mister Hitter, no taller than five foot six,
He's come to retrace you from all of your lost steps.
Christened by the Moon that night;
when you slipped inside the hallows...
Don't you understand?
Now you are owned by the Fears in the Shadows.
Pixie Ghost Writer
Witching Hour Feels
Aight?
Sa'right...