I had this image of a hill named Golgotha

 

Edvard Munch-Golgotha

We lie, yes we lie;

to our own dead ends

I see you like a

catcher in the rye

But catching you meant dying

in a free fall motion

I catch you avoiding

my eyes

my gaze

and I know you wanna hear me

and you know I wanna know the truth

You keep the silence as an answer;

if ignoring me kept the peace

then you are in for a ride

cause the story’s about to be told

right now

even as I say it

it’s about to begin

Holding unto the rails

of your own world

derailed;

replacing my image in your mind

with a counterfeit

but you can’t deny

the allegation within you

No amount of distraction

and attention

you seek

from another companion

can ever replace the satisfaction

of being with me

Only if you listen;

what is that you seek?

Is it clarity or confusion

or the space between?

pleasure can keep you from your calling

when the pain’s too deep

you’re gonna see me

There’s a hill on which you need to die

a hill where you need to die

where you can’t let out a melody

while sitting on a chair

staring blankly

with all those memories

replaying all in your head

See me in the space between

when you’re lying

when you’re hiding from your true self

and the past becomes a supercut

but I am not your past

A story’s about to be told;

a different kind of mold

unlike from what was before

so maybe hold on

cause you’re in for a ride

secretly

you wanna rest that weary head

on my shoulders

but you kept swimming under the guise

of your own lies

secretly

you wanna see me

but your head is full of skulls

give me a melody if you can

I guess you can’t

this loveliness that sparks within you

snuffed out

when you tried to run from that hill of hope

now sometimes death waits

as a friend

and it turns around

it begets me;

you know this silent war will end

only if you try