It's cold and dark but he no longer cares
probably safe to say he no longer feels
the lights are turned down dim
no sound 'xcept the wheeze of the wind outside
the walls are bare, at emptiness he stares
you only realise what you've lost when it's gone
nothing but half drunk cocktails and *******
within his callous pale facade he hides
what's done is done, but never forgiven
he gave it all, all of what could be given
they spat it back, threw it all in his face
now here he rots in isolation suspended in disgrace
conniving vultures they tore him apart
ridicule upon ridicule lashed upon his heart
bought them diamonds, gold, anything a woman could ever need
rather than love they acted out of jealousy and greed
---
once there were birds that sang at the start of every morn
right outside his bedroom window
oh how he regrets their sudden passing
their joyful tweets made this world seem so kind
now he wakes with a head crippled, a face tightly drawn
hunger being that of gnawing addiction
caring for nothing but the Caviar and it's forbidden magic
helping him leave all the pain behind
guided like a train to its next station
total self-destruction his only destination
languishing in drugs, screwed-out ***
that it was all his fault I guess
the Pallid Badrock Lover will never accept.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 5:05 PM UTC
It's cold and dark but he no longer cares
probably safe to say he no longer feels
the lights are turned down dim
no sound 'xcept the wheeze of the wind outside
the walls are bare, at emptiness he stares
you only realise what you've lost when it's gone
nothing but half drunk cocktails and *******
within his callous pale facade he hides
what's done is done, but never forgiven
he gave it all, all of what could be given
they spat it back, threw it all in his face
now here he rots in isolation suspended in disgrace
conniving vultures they tore him apart
ridicule upon ridicule lashed upon his heart
bought them diamonds, gold, anything a woman could ever need
rather than love they acted out of jealousy and greed
---
once there were birds that sang at the start of every morn
right outside his bedroom window
oh how he regrets their sudden passing
their joyful tweets made this world seem so kind
now he wakes with a head crippled, a face tightly drawn
hunger being that of gnawing addiction
caring for nothing but the Caviar and it's forbidden magic
helping him leave all the pain behind
guided like a train to its next station
total self-destruction his only destination
languishing in drugs, screwed-out ***
that it was all his fault I guess
the Pallid Badrock Lover will never accept.
Bit of an experiment
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