Genocide of a velvet mind.
A fine tooth comb, Jekyll and Hyde.
Killed all his brain cells with window panes,
Now he’s a desperado, with the curse of Cain.
It slowly sank in,
like when you found out she died.
It’d be far to cliché
to rhyme “died” with “cried”.
But if you hadn’t cried then I would’ve lied
Funny how it works out sometimes.
The strange get stranger
shape-shifter, imminent danger
until your own self is a stranger
in your own fucking world,
you’re your own fucking danger.
Your mind plays tricks
on right and wrong.
You make your exceptions,
but really you’ve been wrong all along,
marching to the beat of an off beat song.
Realizing it’s imminent nature,
this feels naturally natural,
not like imminent danger.
you knew it was coming
from that hour in the manger.
So fear is a waste,
time for a game changer.
Time to meet your maker,
whoever that may be.
Close your eyes,
I promise you’ll still see.