Without Looking Back
Take a straight.
He passes unimportant palm things backwards openhandedly. He accepted a long time ago the fact that she would never be his anything, would never be his red anything. Why is it that the ghosts of your past always look so glamorous right before the sun goes down? Except that this one isn't a ghost and never will be. I don't even know who I'm talking about anymore.
(It was red then too)
Love is a game they played along the roadways of your spine and inside organs while you smiled and tried to cover up the fact that you were ripped apart inside and you're slowly filling up with blood, slowly filling up with blood. You keep smiling even when it starts to ooze out from between your teeth. All of this makes too much sense.
Does it surprise you that when I took a picture of your wings spread to the sky they disappeared and I was left with you frozen in fallen space?
This will go on as long as it has to. Don't ask me anything about it because I don't know. Don't ask me anything about this because I don't know. Don't read into this because I'm trying to get out. Don't read into this because nothing is a mess.
I'M JUST GOING AL0NG FOR THE RIDE UNTIL HE HITS 100 AND WE LEARN HOW TO FLY.
Some things are so inherently musical. Everything I want to say seems to be coming out wrong. There are no ulterior motives here. Something about second guessing and a line that never goes away. Pages behind me and pages in front of me but no way to say it.
This started out as a fire in my eyes but now it's just a pile of dying embers in my stomach.
He passes unimportant palm things backwards openhandedly. He accepted a long time ago the fact that she would never be his anything, would never be his red anything. Why is it that the ghosts of your past always look so glamorous right before the sun goes down? Except that this one isn't a ghost and never will be. I don't even know who I'm talking about anymore.
(It was red then too)
Love is a game they played along the roadways of your spine and inside organs while you smiled and tried to cover up the fact that you were ripped apart inside and you're slowly filling up with blood, slowly filling up with blood. You keep smiling even when it starts to ooze out from between your teeth. All of this makes too much sense.
Does it surprise you that when I took a picture of your wings spread to the sky they disappeared and I was left with you frozen in fallen space?
This will go on as long as it has to. Don't ask me anything about it because I don't know. Don't ask me anything about this because I don't know. Don't read into this because I'm trying to get out. Don't read into this because nothing is a mess.
I'M JUST GOING AL0NG FOR THE RIDE UNTIL HE HITS 100 AND WE LEARN HOW TO FLY.
Some things are so inherently musical. Everything I want to say seems to be coming out wrong. There are no ulterior motives here. Something about second guessing and a line that never goes away. Pages behind me and pages in front of me but no way to say it.
This started out as a fire in my eyes but now it's just a pile of dying embers in my stomach.