Nobody looks too deep at the paintings I do
Could you tell who was the person lost
Who was drowning in the sea that I so much efforted to paint
Me, in the coldest and fakest water alive
Dead, and lost, such as a skeleton should be.
I, in love, how I wanted to be;
Satisfying love like lavender field in summer,
Flame of a candle, warmness from the fire
But frightened from the same medicine
Love is overrated and unpatieful, cold as a bottle of gin
Submersed in the midnight lake.
I've always been afraid of falling in love,
They never told were we would fall to, or where from
And if so, do we land or do we keep falling?
Is love an abism or a simple metaphor?
Jun 28, 2020
Jun 28, 2020 at 10:40 PM UTC
Nobody looks too deep at the paintings I do
Could you tell who was the person lost
Who was drowning in the sea that I so much efforted to paint
Me, in the coldest and fakest water alive
Dead, and lost, such as a skeleton should be.
I, in love, how I wanted to be;
Satisfying love like lavender field in summer,
Flame of a candle, warmness from the fire
But frightened from the same medicine
Love is overrated and unpatieful, cold as a bottle of gin
Submersed in the midnight lake.
I've always been afraid of falling in love,
They never told were we would fall to, or where from
And if so, do we land or do we keep falling?
Is love an abism or a simple metaphor?
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