I want you to be like cracks in the wall Splitting, terrifying, acknowledgments of age. But full of character. The kind of wrecked up building Hipsters want to take photos of.
I want you to be a condemned factory In some rundown New Jersey Industrial district.
I need you like the worn lines on some film reel. Getting in the way of the best parts.
You could be a dress completely destroyed by cigarette burns Or the stains on an important document.
You could be my anti-Christ to perfection. And I’d crucify you with the best intention.
You’re like a car with old bullet holes, Or that rug everybody is afraid to touch.
In the end you’re like some decrepit ruin of a vast civilization. Old and broken. But eternally majestic in my perception.