i probably shouldnt be saying this but i really can't resist:
if we were to suffocate
right here in this velvetly air,
i probably wouldn't even care
we would watch our things, our posessions, our valuables float into the atmosphere
as we continue to breathe in the sulfur,
ladies and gentleman,
prepare to say your last prayer
we were designed to go this way, i swear
is this really what it takes
to make us feel human?
is this really what it takes
to make us feel alive?
i don't know why i'd rather die
than to hang on every word
like it was your last
i really don't mean to sound like
such a bother but it's just that i can't
seem to figure out why i even bother.
and hey,
everybody has those days
and everybody has those nights
like the ones where i lay staring at the ceiling
til i feel like i might stop breathing
because i don't know
who to call at 3 in the morning
because i know your sleep is more important
because the only trace of
"i love you" can be found
underneath your finger nails,
i can still remember your breathing
your skinfolds, the tiny little details
but each dig feels sharper than the last
because i don't like to write in the last
few pages of my notebook because
i actually don't want my story to end
but here we are
we're dying in the street
we're struggling to breath
and i can't feel my heart beat
that's what i wanted, right?
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 9:36 PM UTC
i probably shouldnt be saying this but i really can't resist:
if we were to suffocate
right here in this velvetly air,
i probably wouldn't even care
we would watch our things, our posessions, our valuables float into the atmosphere
as we continue to breathe in the sulfur,
ladies and gentleman,
prepare to say your last prayer
we were designed to go this way, i swear
is this really what it takes
to make us feel human?
is this really what it takes
to make us feel alive?
i don't know why i'd rather die
than to hang on every word
like it was your last
i really don't mean to sound like
such a bother but it's just that i can't
seem to figure out why i even bother.
and hey,
everybody has those days
and everybody has those nights
like the ones where i lay staring at the ceiling
til i feel like i might stop breathing
because i don't know
who to call at 3 in the morning
because i know your sleep is more important
because the only trace of
"i love you" can be found
underneath your finger nails,
i can still remember your breathing
your skinfolds, the tiny little details
but each dig feels sharper than the last
because i don't like to write in the last
few pages of my notebook because
i actually don't want my story to end
but here we are
we're dying in the street
we're struggling to breath
and i can't feel my heart beat
that's what i wanted, right?
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