You are alive
Yet not at all, it seems
As though you are of living dead
A skull with a beating heart
Dreams of death, despair, decay
Surround you in your passings
I feel them as you go on your way
And look on with helpless wonder
How did you create yourself
The way you are
Born from golden promise.
Now known as the ruiner of tradition,
An iconoclast of her own
In the negative connotation.
You are elusive
Futile
Miserable.
Each breath you take should be
A nicotine filled dream
For why breath free if you're already dead.
I encourage you no more to live,
I ask you to relent
You're strangled by the joy of life
And happiness is your cancer.
Goodbye, once friend I knew so well
I know you no more and
For that I say
Goodbye to the living dead.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC
You are alive
Yet not at all, it seems
As though you are of living dead
A skull with a beating heart
Dreams of death, despair, decay
Surround you in your passings
I feel them as you go on your way
And look on with helpless wonder
How did you create yourself
The way you are
Born from golden promise.
Now known as the ruiner of tradition,
An iconoclast of her own
In the negative connotation.
You are elusive
Futile
Miserable.
Each breath you take should be
A nicotine filled dream
For why breath free if you're already dead.
I encourage you no more to live,
I ask you to relent
You're strangled by the joy of life
And happiness is your cancer.
Goodbye, once friend I knew so well
I know you no more and
For that I say
Goodbye to the living dead.