Johnny Powell and the Seasonal Beasts


In the Dark Room

oh what fun we had 
when our minds were wide 
the expectations 
almost satisfied 
but the honesty was creeping in 
a powerful child 
the collation of wisdom 
cremated, into pride 

in the dark room 

the terrifying prospect 
of death drove us wild 
providing a sanity 
a clarity 
a style 
it gave us a purpose 
that i still cannot deny 
now we’re all bound up, so tight 

in the dark room 

who cared about sleep? 
who cared about right? 
we’re just scratching the surface 
of this precious human life 
our impenetrable deafness 
stubborn little smiles 
cloaked the captive whale-like patterns 
of a limited life 

in the dark room