Son, your mom is dead son,
Son, it's time I shot you too
Son, love isn't okay
But what am i supposed to do?
Son, I tried to fix my tie
Son, Sonny boy look the sky is grey
Son, Bid your gold fish goodbye
Son, Tell Maurice you cannot stay
Son, Tell Oakley that games aren't bad
His parents lie to each other in their marriage
Son, I have to leave your mother,
I'll be leaving with blood on my palms in a carriage
Son, life isn't easy,
And in this dusky town,
I'm gonna let your fragile body slide under the dirt,
By the time the sun sets down.

I'll be waiting with dead roses
In a little horse and prim
White roses are sinful
And I ain't your kin
I'll be calling out to you
When it's dark and grey
I hope you come back home
And make love to your prey
I hope you come back home
And love me everyday.

The sun was shining,
the leaves were sparkling through the open window
Sylvia finally looked at Jove
Lee-Roy had bought fruit
And Jane the apollo-servant



In a far away land where cherry trees lit up villa,
Maurice shot himself.

what is your religion i asked Jesus
He said command of life
I asked Ram, the prophet and chronicles of brave
They said they died under a knife
I asked the beggar whom he worships
Money and a certain flower
Religion is a questionable thought
which changes by every hour
What is a relic i ask
what is God
what is power
whom to worship
whom to kneel to
what is religion
what is a blind man's idol

I wonder if it is normal for people to pass through a stage where the obvious is the content by which we spill tears every day or that our lives and eyes come to a total zero. There is no hope for recovery and you know that this is the most horrible phase to be stuck in. There is no movement for the future or any optimistic approaches to be happy or be better in the nearing future. Life is tough and i have to accept it at this point. I know that there are various kinds of depression which we face everyday. There is the economical one, and also people are healthwise improper due to which they lead a very uneasy life. But there is the thing about mental trauma. Mental trauma kills everything on the inside. It's like a ******* acid truck burning everything inside you. There is no lead forward, there is no happiness beyond and lastly even if you cry for help, no one will be beside you. You stand alone. You are alone and you have to face all of this by yourself. If you want to **** yourself, you have to cut your veins, there won't be anybody beside you.
I hope i go to a pretty world next life.
I really hope so.

He says it's good to start a war
He says it's past three
He says it's untimely to fall in love
He says it's not just me
He says to throw myself at men
He says it's an act of *****
He says that he loves me not
He says my ******* are sore
He says I laid other men in bed
He says I lie a lot
He says to cut my womb in two
He says that my baby rots
He says and i listen to him
It's an act of cat and mice
I'm just a part of his game
Where he throws the dice

Throw me in the bowl
Cereal killer,
Mix me and soul
Pour the milk and tears,
Instead of running and running and running and running
Nowhere
Teleport
Teleport
Teleport
Sky runner, teleport.
Juvenile, little crime, mix me in the bowl
And teleport me
to home.