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Broken Dreams

by buried and dug up

Somewhere life has nothing left for me,
Some how everything’s taken over,
There’s nothing left for me to be,
Nothing to keep me under…

Old and slow decayed is,
All this man has obeyed,
So tired and displaced,
Ill still run on and on misplaced…

All my dreams, never come true…
Is it so hard to ask for a father’s love,
When a cold stone is all I feel?
Hard rock against my chest,
Cold stones, all depressed,
All I ever see,
Are a load of broken dreams

Maybe Jesus Christ will come over,
Right when Hell freezes over me,
Maybe you can cry your way,
When your bells will ring soberly,

Old and tired from all these endless night,
All my life has ever tried,
Retired and no place for,
Stillborn little lifeless falsely hoped…

All my dreams, never come through,
Is it hard to ask for a fathers knowledge,
When a cold stone is all I feel?
Hard rock against my chest,
Cold stones, I’m impressed,
All I ever see,
Are a load of broken dreams,

I’m locked up inside my cage,
Goddammit, let me in!
Looking up, looking down,
I see what’s left me filled with rage

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3 comments

Amakua2309 1/5/2013 - 1:25 pm

Hello Buried and Dug Up,

Can I call you Doug? hahaha Are you really that old? And it’s obvious you are raging…but not sure I quite grasp why. Your name is what caught my attention…but then I can relate to it…as well…I have a secret fear…ooops…maybe not so secret eh? But I have a fear of being buried alive…ayup.

I liked your verse…very sensitive guy eh? Have no talent myself at expressing myself…but then I am an Aspie…sorry. 🙁 I’m more likely to red pencil your art then understand it….and yet. I dunno…it touched me.

Peace
Amakua

buried and dug up 1/5/2013 - 2:26 pm

It was more or less about my father committing suicide, and about how our relationship was compared to my older brother’s and his…they were much closer, and my brother and I had different dads. I was angry when I wrote this, and I felt cheated, like my dad didnt want me, though he was in a much different state of mind when he left us than before his divorcing my mother.

buried and dug up 1/5/2013 - 2:28 pm

Also, my name kinda is referencing to my path of depression, suicide, and anger. My father and one of his close friends called me “Buddha Baby” for two reasons. I was VERY chubby, and his friend had felt a “peace” about me, as if I were a bringer of peace, during my extreme fight with depression, I am sure that wasn’t the case.

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