Beating Go The Drums

Beating go the drums. Beating, beating go the drums.

I walk fast, wind high blows my hair into my face.

Blue sky, dash across the road no change in my pace.

I'm not living on the edge but it's better than the slums

Of my mind I cant seem to escape from.

Even when I sleep black holes is all see,

And when I'm awake dead I wish to be.

Irritated mostly by the same constant song.

Beating go the drums. Beating, beating go the drums.

Standing in this wood all alone staring at the trees.

Never further from death do I wish to be.

Feeling odd like a baby sucking both my thumbs.

As I look into the distance the sun begins to set.

Darkness will be upon me before I make it home,

But nothing really matters so long as I'm alone

And until then I may as well forget.

But beating go the drums. Beating, beating go the drums.

This beat goes round my head driving me insane,

Never from this point will I ever be the same.

I cannot rid this sound, won't escape the wretched drums.

You can call me from afar, you whisper right up close,

But none of these sounds will make my train of thought.

These drums occupy my mind now, leaving me distraught

Because when I see a bird its song I miss the most.

Beating go the drums. Beating, beating go the drums.

Beating go the drums. Beating, beating go the drums.