You know, sadness is profound
In the spaces which I occupy.
A constant smell and feel of rot
Just upon the first layer of my skin
A depression is odd just to those
Who have yet to decay
(but from my mouth this comes empty,
I know not the demons I speak of)
we could always keep screaming, you know.
We could keep ignoring everyone else, you know
And we could, you know.
each time I leaned I would fall over,
And the one who knew would be there to talk it over.
birds of a feather,
(but birds do not forget)
these lines were supposed to be the pulse. You misunderstood again, didn`t you?
Feverish people have the best quotes, so before my mind cools my flesh and vice versa
I`ll write down that story of three drowning men
I wish I had something else to give.
BUt I`m severed
From this world
I`ll give you my last belonging
The only survivor of my soul
I`ll give you my limb,
MY hands, all finger by finger
They`ve done their job well
They wrote the lie
(media, they wrote the media)
That killed that innocent one
I killed that innocent one
So take me apart
It`s just that everything else has the mouths