clean
lyrics & music by peter c marinari 3.8.1

The mess in here is a metaphor the way sleep yields dreams/ because without it this song would be a figment of my imagination and i would just be clean/ I can't be rescued from the empty shopping bags and dust/ and these feelings are homing in and i must give them a play/ I'll spin them out like your records left discarded on the floor/ when we upped the rpm to something more// And the emotions spun out of control and the bodies fit like a needle in the groove/ and after it was all over we couldn't even muster up the strength to move/// There's still no blinds for my windows because i don't like to cover up at all/ i'd rather everyone see in past my walls/ I'm always illuminated and the sunlight is unescapable/ and i always have a view of the moon/ It's full like eyes brimming with tears after another friday night spent alone with our phones/ And our voices darted past telephone poles so our brutal remarks could hit home// My fear of you is a tell tale sign that everything is just fine/ but my running away is an end not a means, and heartbreak lies inbetween/// But i keep putting one foot in front of the other and soon i'll be disappearing from sight/ - just another blemish on your vast horizon i will do my best to disappear into the night// And our emotions spun out of control and the bodies fit like a needle in the groove/ and after it was all over we couldn't even muster up the strength to move/// The mess in here is a metaphor and my sleep yields dreams/ without them these songs would be a figment of my imagination and i would come out clean.