Something to write home about...
Forgive me for thinking that i am still alive
for breathing and moving and thinking i'm here
i've been living in a cave and this pale skin will always tell
the story of the boy who won't believe in hell
it justifies his every action
it fortifies his satisfaction
in living long and well
without a purpose
but living long and well.
No purpose with no action
does not make satisfaction
a goal very attainable
a mind living unstable
but my sphere is pretty clear and these walls are now wiped clean, i'm sure that you will see everything that should be seen, and my heart is beating through the cage inside my chest and the veins are standing free from the skin that they detest, and my eyes are bulging large and blue fluorescent spheres, irredescent, magnificent and lost without a tear. I've forgotten the way i used to cry, i've disguarded the art i held so close, i'm losing myself one day at a time, i'm falling apart in puzzling rhyme. I'm an empty bottle of your favorite drink, my mysterious absence just once made you think: "where did you go, who spilt your guts?" but there is no response all the substance is lost, and i've lost all ideas of where i have gone, and i have no idea why i feel so alone, i'm dispersing to corners on the floor at your feet, where the bottle was opened and tipped clumsily, but you'll never find me but you'll forget just the same that the body in the bottle is now just a stain. But at least your feet will touch me, and maybe you'll wash me away.
for breathing and moving and thinking i'm here
i've been living in a cave and this pale skin will always tell
the story of the boy who won't believe in hell
it justifies his every action
it fortifies his satisfaction
in living long and well
without a purpose
but living long and well.
No purpose with no action
does not make satisfaction
a goal very attainable
a mind living unstable
but my sphere is pretty clear and these walls are now wiped clean, i'm sure that you will see everything that should be seen, and my heart is beating through the cage inside my chest and the veins are standing free from the skin that they detest, and my eyes are bulging large and blue fluorescent spheres, irredescent, magnificent and lost without a tear. I've forgotten the way i used to cry, i've disguarded the art i held so close, i'm losing myself one day at a time, i'm falling apart in puzzling rhyme. I'm an empty bottle of your favorite drink, my mysterious absence just once made you think: "where did you go, who spilt your guts?" but there is no response all the substance is lost, and i've lost all ideas of where i have gone, and i have no idea why i feel so alone, i'm dispersing to corners on the floor at your feet, where the bottle was opened and tipped clumsily, but you'll never find me but you'll forget just the same that the body in the bottle is now just a stain. But at least your feet will touch me, and maybe you'll wash me away.