I'd be a butterfly, For Heaven's sake. The kind that Noah forgot to take. But still survived The Flood... In your eyes. I'd build a boat. Out of your ribcage, To set the birds free. You heard me! Butterflies? **** butterflies, I got birds inside me. No. What I have to say, comes from the rip chord of my razor blades. Waiting my whole life for that rubber band to snap back.
Thank God for my destruction. Thank God for my ruble. Because tree's grow out of the sides of stone cold mountains. That have been blown up by the rough hands of people mining for gold.
And people set forest fires on purpose. To get rid of the dead stuff. So new things can grow. And Sometimes. I pick the plants. Just to see how much dead stuff I can accumulate, before I set myself on fire. And when I do, I swear to God. I'll be an empty notebook. So you can cover me with lines. The good kind. That come from your pencil. Cause we don't have to roll up dollar bills to see the moon, anymore.