The playground is getting dark
It's almost time to go
But finally I smile and lean my head back
And then I go and swing some more
I dangle from my neck
Swinging to and fro
Isn't this playground lovely?
I laugh and swing myself some more
I tighten the rope a little
There's still a short while to go
But better safe than happy
So off the shaky seat I go
Swinging to and fro
I hang from my rope
There's nothing left at all
There's a smile on my face
As you watch me
Swinging to and fro
People called it madness
But the soaring one's called it love
People thought they were banging their heads
In a direction that would lead them to flaw
One thing the soaring one's didn't care
Was that people telling them what was right and what was wrong
This madness was an elucidated form of magic and promise
That circulated it's way again into this world of morbid claws
Devouring everything in a chain of belief's and vain
That had become a tradition verified by all
But the soaring one's were here to shift this hell bent form
Their name's were enough to cast sane one's afraid
The sane of that time that the traditions had made
But everything has it's twist's and turns
So here was brought a major change by the force of all
The soaring one's didn't name who it was who called them to come
For they knew word's lacked strength and people could twist them into storms
The very breathe these intriguing one's breathed was carved out of flaw
So it's the flaw whose flawlessness brought them to bring justice to this plane of lost.
The gleaming pair of crimson red eyes reflect nothing but suffering.
While it's true that those sulfur feathers take flight,
tear holes in the wind, and pierce the night sky,
it's only to get your attention.
Does he have your attention?
He knows he has your attention.
From branch to branch he stares, learns, stalks,
and casts doubt into your impressionable acumen.
You know nothing, and nothing is his forte.
You haven't caught up, but those infinite pools of blood are headed your way.
Don't be afraid, don't scurry, don't cry;
By the end of the night, you'll have seen all,
and you'll be just another in the crimson tide.
In the hour of Twilight, let us burn,
Let us burn with passion
As our blood boils and our hearts turn,
As we melt in one-another, morbidly…
…in a romantic fashion.
Flesh pressed against flesh, I do remember;
The secret lips of a demon so tender,
And our bodies on top of a mound,
Twi lively corpses besottingly…
…carving a new wound.
And let them be irradiated by our macabre ardour.
What if our dreams are memories
That we wanted to forget
What if we forgot
So that everyone could forget
We forget to not suffer
But in suffering we forget
The wretched scenes, the morbid means
Are just, but what, these darkly dreams
But those who see the cryptic key
Unlock the oblique, sadistic sprees
Do you remember the first time your heart did freeze
The first time your mind and body at ease
There was a yellow fellow
Who wanted to play the cello
He wanted to learn how
Till he got robbed at gunpoint, click* POW!
Got shot in his knees
Fell down bleedin out, lookin up at the trees
He felt his blood flowin out and thought of the seas
The cool air came in, with a nice breeze
That blew away his soul
R.I.P to the man yellow like Dole
The way our bodies are so intricate,
doesn’t this amaze you? I’m looking now at each and every line on my palm
and somehow I want to cut open each one.
There is something so special about the blood that fills our hand
and there’s something precious about the capillary refill that takes place with
each touch. I’m searching for a real thing to cherish within our bodies.
Will I find it?
A ripped nail, a broken nose,
skin slippage, severed head,
entrails taken out, brash as fuck.
I end my day with the anatomy textbook,
and picture cutting my pocket knife (or maybe something bigger)
into my patient’s throat and hear the gurgling sounds.
I had too much free time as a child.
So many white lies humans tell and so many
white lines humans draw, yet who crosses these lines and tells these lies?
I’m searching for these answers
and it might lay within the anatomy of some type of mammal;
an expensive mammal.
A mammal more precious than any that has ever existed
and I don’t think they all understand
and can convey why life is so cherishable.
And why it’s something that I want to take
to see for myself how they’re taken and
where they go. I used to think that I could get a jar and hold it forever.
Xany gnawing, silver spooned, and Caddy driving lives in a jar.
It’d sparkle and it’d illuminate my dark room,
and maybe it could warm me up a little.
I’m searching for something real to love.
Difficult and vile, the enraged gruesome winds knock me down
INSECURITIES I fucking HATE, laughing deep inside my aching beating brain.
FORGET that I love you, I can't stand my jealous side
ACHES AND PAINS so help my sleepless nights
I'M no different than the subhuman scum that NEEDS you, I NEED you
I have you, I HAVE you
GIVE me my security I AM ENTITLED SCUM
WHY, WHY must I victimize myself, I LOVE YOU
DISTASTEFUL TEARS BECOME A STREAM DOWN MY FACE POLLUTING MY SKIN TURNING THE DEEPEST PIT OF MY MIND INTO A FOUL DESPAIR
FOUL, I FEEL FOUL