The Gathering - Eléanor

Underneath the mask you've buried yourself into
It's coal-black
I am tired of the gulping that you do
Every day a new face
What if I unscrew
Your own identity
Wouldn't you guess there's nothing left of you?

The quicksand of life drags us
Down into the circle
One day. we might not catch you

I feel sorry for what you try to do
Breaking others down. to try and to pursue
Your own selfish interests
I am starting to get sick of you

Whatever happened ever since you left
You make yourself and me look like fools