when you disappear
empty face slips right off of the canvas and one glance into the fog and you are gone. What are we to do with ourselves. My slippery heart has slid right down your throat. things have twisted into this unknown form of abstract art that not even Munch can explain. These truths are known, yet the mississippi river started running backwards today friend. If you insist on going by Thurstones theory, then stop trying to be so intelligent, because lets remember there are only three kinds.
I have found excess lungs laying around...inevitably, this has to mean we are still breathing. beating heart when are you going to stop abruptly and let me live? press rewind and we can suffer for the sake of principle. and this fundamental feeling called pain doesnt live here anymore. a ball room dance in triple time with accent on the first beat--while shes being murdered by love on those marbel floors.
Your very own killer lent you his knife the night before last, chronic drinker, swiftly enough this unessesary phenomenon was cut from literary text.
I have found excess lungs laying around...inevitably, this has to mean we are still breathing. beating heart when are you going to stop abruptly and let me live? press rewind and we can suffer for the sake of principle. and this fundamental feeling called pain doesnt live here anymore. a ball room dance in triple time with accent on the first beat--while shes being murdered by love on those marbel floors.
Your very own killer lent you his knife the night before last, chronic drinker, swiftly enough this unessesary phenomenon was cut from literary text.