out of touch - Field Medic

In the clock tower walls

Like an infant he crawls

To the cabinet to search for salvation

And as the hour is late

The witches relate

To his affinity for mixing drops of poison

And by the birds first morning call

He hasn’t slept at all

Tears fall when he’s forced to face his own reflection

Oh, but how could he change

When nothing stands in his way?

His life is empty like riding on the last tram

He’s fallen out of touch

And fantasies of some past life

Haunt him like so many sprites

Who’s wings buzz to the fatal tune of times passing

Like a pallbearr he mourns

Convinced he wars a crown of thorns

But in reality he’s just some vagrant

Who’s forgotten how to love

Forgotten how to heal

Forgotten how to feel anything besides surrender

Oh, it’s God’s wicked game

To take all of those away

Once you’ve finally won the race that you trained for

Have you fallen out of touch?