I'm not really good at not killing things
Especially the things I love

You gave me a rose bush
And I, and I lit it on fire
That's what you call desire

I'm misguided
My soul trajectory is off
Just like cupid plays with arrows of love
Sometimes God messes up
We are all astray



In this cosmic chaos
But I still met you and try love, you
In my misguided way

I try to put that soul into every cigarette I smoke
Inhale, choke, definetly definetly go broke
Because you can try
But, but it is all rigged like carnival
We're the ones telling ourselves the lies

We are Adam and Eve
As far as knowledge
We are only seeds

You can be certain of nothing
and anything
Superposition
You are, you are the fiction

Those petals, I want them to burn like those lies in September, the end the Summer kind of heat, humid like rainshowers above head in your throat in your lonely lonely bed.

So I put the cigarette down in an ashtray in a mirror house
I am tiny
I have breathed most of my life out

In ways my reflection is changing