I wasn’t being rude to you but to him;
He who thought he could scale mountains and climb trees
And jump off all without actually having to fall
I wasn’t being cruel to those who mourn,
But that with which caused the sorrow, as tomorrow
He’ll be not but a fading memory that can’t stick
What’s his face? You’ll cling so desperately to pain
It will be sickening to watch and even worse to try to bear
Until the faint of heart stop beating themselves
Into shuddering piles of agony
We must all prepare for our own destruction
We must make the beds that we will lay in forever
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 2:46 PM UTC
I wasn’t being rude to you but to him;
He who thought he could scale mountains and climb trees
And jump off all without actually having to fall
I wasn’t being cruel to those who mourn,
But that with which caused the sorrow, as tomorrow
He’ll be not but a fading memory that can’t stick
What’s his face? You’ll cling so desperately to pain
It will be sickening to watch and even worse to try to bear
Until the faint of heart stop beating themselves
Into shuddering piles of agony
We must all prepare for our own destruction
We must make the beds that we will lay in forever
