the gears keep turning round and round and round

the gears keep turning round and round and round

been trapped between the cogs well since that day

my aching bones into a dust are ground

within grief's pain machine I can be found

pulled slowly through this single path and way

the gears keep turning round and round and round

if only memories were small and round

i'd squeeze by teeth with some little leeway

my aching bones into a dust are ground

for memories are great, greater beat down

compressed, for every extra inch I pay

the gears keep turning round and round and round

remembering my brother's death, tears drown

my lungs with agony but every day

my aching bones into a dust are ground

my flesh has left with his without a sound

i'm trapped inside, I'll never get away

the gears keep turning round and round and round

my aching bones into a dust are ground

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos