(no subject)
"9:37"
Name-dropping bands while they were holding hands,
It was a indie-rock wedding for sure.
He was working the floor: neon lights and drunken whores.
But you could tell they all were pining for more.
It was only just a matter of time
'til they slid to his room. Close the door and shut the locks.
It was only just a matter of time
before the sheep revealed himself to be the fox.
It was only just a matter of time
she said.
"Untitled 1"
My mind, it wanders all the time - in circles or at angles, philosophizing deceits and lies into convienient corners. I feigned conviction: half-earnest dictions to guise the weight of words unsaid; portraying the perfect picutre of justified composure in its stead.
I sound so sincere when filled with fear.
Won't shed no tears
Won't be no man
I'll just shrug it off and count your loss.
A fleeting kiss don't mean a thing
but could mean the end of all this
So why risk it?
Shrug it off and count your loss.
If my plan pans out, I'll get around (The truth will come out someday)
If my plan pans out, I'll get around (The turht will come out Sunday)
"Untitled 2"
See, what you have to understand (is) this was all due.
Sad, but true.
It was written in the sand.
Still don't see it? I'll show you.
You've got little piggies from a broken home
Both feeling quite depressed and all alone.
This was all due... need more?
You've got mommy hard at work, waking up at dawn
And daddy in the living room, gettin' it on.
This was all due.
And I tried to run away
Or find the words to say what was going on,
But these words sound so trite as they stumble into sound:
This biased adjective, these meaningless nouns.
But eventually, they must suffice.
Verbs, nouns, and adjectives all line into place and
A convicted angel falls out of grace...
But there is a way to rewind time.
A clever means to undo past crimes.
Etch in. Scratch out. Scratch out. Etch in.
Cut. Paste. Sin.
Promise to never do this again.
Please, don't ever do this again.
"Untitled 4"*
It started to rain and the colors corroded
Autumn-colored streaks tearing down the walls
Her weak knees and weary heart unfold
[That's when this started falling apart]
With Victorian pleasantries and a painted face,
she kept it in.
Displaced apathies unended our decline
To state otherwise would simply be a lie
But how those cliches feel right into place
Effortlessly biding the time
Now, watch your mouth
Speak with trepidation
The shells could crack beneath our feet
Now, watch your mouth
Speak with trepidation
The paint will thin under the heat
We exchange Victorian pleasantries:
Distinguished grace, yet guilt-ridden posture
A painted face, she's clearly the imposter
Acknowledge ("It's been a while. How are you?")
Admit ("I must admit, it's great to see you")
Pacify ("Life's just so crazy sometimes")
Goodbye.
For a moment, I think I thought I saw you for who you are.
(Not a typo, "Untitled 3" has no lyrics at all yet.)
Name-dropping bands while they were holding hands,
It was a indie-rock wedding for sure.
He was working the floor: neon lights and drunken whores.
But you could tell they all were pining for more.
It was only just a matter of time
'til they slid to his room. Close the door and shut the locks.
It was only just a matter of time
before the sheep revealed himself to be the fox.
It was only just a matter of time
she said.
"Untitled 1"
My mind, it wanders all the time - in circles or at angles, philosophizing deceits and lies into convienient corners. I feigned conviction: half-earnest dictions to guise the weight of words unsaid; portraying the perfect picutre of justified composure in its stead.
I sound so sincere when filled with fear.
Won't shed no tears
Won't be no man
I'll just shrug it off and count your loss.
A fleeting kiss don't mean a thing
but could mean the end of all this
So why risk it?
Shrug it off and count your loss.
If my plan pans out, I'll get around (The truth will come out someday)
If my plan pans out, I'll get around (The turht will come out Sunday)
"Untitled 2"
See, what you have to understand (is) this was all due.
Sad, but true.
It was written in the sand.
Still don't see it? I'll show you.
You've got little piggies from a broken home
Both feeling quite depressed and all alone.
This was all due... need more?
You've got mommy hard at work, waking up at dawn
And daddy in the living room, gettin' it on.
This was all due.
And I tried to run away
Or find the words to say what was going on,
But these words sound so trite as they stumble into sound:
This biased adjective, these meaningless nouns.
But eventually, they must suffice.
Verbs, nouns, and adjectives all line into place and
A convicted angel falls out of grace...
But there is a way to rewind time.
A clever means to undo past crimes.
Etch in. Scratch out. Scratch out. Etch in.
Cut. Paste. Sin.
Promise to never do this again.
Please, don't ever do this again.
"Untitled 4"*
It started to rain and the colors corroded
Autumn-colored streaks tearing down the walls
Her weak knees and weary heart unfold
[That's when this started falling apart]
With Victorian pleasantries and a painted face,
she kept it in.
Displaced apathies unended our decline
To state otherwise would simply be a lie
But how those cliches feel right into place
Effortlessly biding the time
Now, watch your mouth
Speak with trepidation
The shells could crack beneath our feet
Now, watch your mouth
Speak with trepidation
The paint will thin under the heat
We exchange Victorian pleasantries:
Distinguished grace, yet guilt-ridden posture
A painted face, she's clearly the imposter
Acknowledge ("It's been a while. How are you?")
Admit ("I must admit, it's great to see you")
Pacify ("Life's just so crazy sometimes")
Goodbye.
For a moment, I think I thought I saw you for who you are.
(Not a typo, "Untitled 3" has no lyrics at all yet.)