Gallonman

Seasons condensed into one room
It snows here in mid July
I'll pile it into a corner
I'll heap it against the door
Stick all my to do lists together
And paint them into the walls
Leave your half beaten coat
Hanging on top of mine

There's no dirt in here

Time exists on a circular plane

As a human I have no choice
Amongst the dead I have too many
As a human I have no voice
Amongst the dead I have too many

Seasons condensed into one room
Snow drifts hanging out with rain
Lack lustre rivers can wander
The trains de-railed inside my brain
I got a fear of all illiterates
But nothing scares me like myself
Dead to my surroundings
But nothing scares me like myself

Time exists on a circular plane