| Gold in your eyes
  black immorals leave you blind

| Immortal pain, forever will they cry
  as you try to decide of all the written
  messages on the wall, you want to reply

| You're like a worker of the night,
   living in the city heights, trying to get high
   Success gives you a fright; you couldn't see yourself
    well in all those bright lights

| Grinding at work, grinding with a girl afterwards
   on a wall. Your job is to answer customer's call,
  And you also had this pretty ******* call; and you
   two did some damage to the wall

| Trying to patch it up, like you tried with an ex
   you got drunk a little extra, in an empty bathtub
    shower, sending her drunk texts
  She thought you were just looking for ***,
  you threw your phone at the wall—it made a mess
  She obviously could smell your intentions with the
   alcohol under your breath

| So you screamed at the wall,
   "I hate you, I hate you all," as always to that wall
  But it wasn't the people you were referring to at all
   it was just at all your personalities, that you only know
  New friends started knocking on the bathroom door,
   people you never knew at all. They found you bouncing
   your anger on the wall, bawling your eyes out on the floor

| You used to have such good conversations with
   the walls; listening to you intentionally
  You filled them with your punches whenever you
   felt empty. Did so, so plenty and affectionately,
   as those walls could credit your pain, with great credibility

| Yours was an unmatched ability
   to tell a good story to an inanimate object so brilliantly
  Wilfully, cutting yourself so short equally,
   as time kissed you on your spine secretly, to pull you
   back in time- minutely, to reminisce on that girl Tiffany

| She was a blonde; only by her kind of dye
   she looked straight through you; only by
    that black eyeliner on her pretty eyes
   She made you seem a sweet tooth addict; only
    by the many times you tasted her cherry pie
   A cherished walk by; she was sort of bi- buying
    your heart both in and out.
   The number of times you told her, "I love you,"
    you'd probably lose count

| Now you just have that wall of where you
   first kissed
  Where you first embraced, and she accepted you
   with your random lisp
   Sharing your clothes of your blue collar salary,
    making sure it came back ironed so crisp
   Supersoaker eyes after— the only catch you had,
    after a long time you had fished

| In two deep, but all you have are these walls;
   they won't talk back to you. But they talk about
   your ex girl. ****, ****, **** these talking walls