I've seen death in the neon electricity that
warms the hearts of the generation following my own.

Watching them pocket it away with crushes
and heartbreaks, holding it closer than necessity.

These words I write glow in the neon lights
that are very much hypocrisy and the end of me.

The last remains of winter still grasped the edge
of spring like dangling off the edge of a cliff,

desperate for any love

We are all black roses
The only thing is
Some of us were born that way
And some were burnt.

His money isn't free.
On the first date,
He picked you up in a Phantom
which haunted your inner gold-digger
Digging to harvest stardom, but
His money isn't free.
He's wearing a Rolex
You're wearing a Swatch wrist
Hoping to switch wrists.
It's much too sad that
His money isn't free.
He's harvested his cotton
And you're ready to rob him
But his ex keeps calling
Little Miss Lee Kaching!
She can sense your scheming;
she screams through the speakerphone,
"His money isn't free!"
Now he's seen
your blades, your spades, your grenades
hidden in the dark of your shade.
He's grabbing those keys
Leaving his seat saying,
"My money isn't free!"
Now you're left alone
With your flip phone,
Not even an iPhone.
And the waiter comes by,
Drops the bill and says,
"This meal isn't free."

My Silence is Loud
The humming of the generator
Along with the whispers of the crowd,
The gentle breeze snores
Along with clapping of the doors.

My Silence is Loud
The humming of the Death
Along with the whispers of Deceit,
Ancient Honour snores
Along with clapping of the Time.

Make the corset tighter!
For he already took my breath away.

Mark my lips ****!
For he's already seen my heart naked.

Raise my hair to the heavens!
For my head is already in the clouds.

Don't get make-up on the dress!
For I've already made my mark on him.

Slip the promise on my finger!
For I'm getting married today.