And the red flowers will be stained with blood,
like the sunset sleeps at day,
and you will never know,
when I see your eyes,
when I see your smile,
they empty me like a ****** is in the back of your mind.
You have been tricked into becoming an insidious torture chamber,
concealed by a rainbow blinding us with different hues,
the colors are only an illusion placed by society,
no more freedom, forever shackled in your own head,
blankly staring at a mirror placed in front of you,
stuck looking at your own reflection,
the reflection of a mad man,
a lunatic,
what you have become.
Hiding your reflection from the colors by wearing a jubilant mask,
a flamboyant smile,
but I can taste the smell of death on you,
and it only reminds me,
that each day,
is another day,
and everyday is a knock,
by death,
six hundred,
sixty six,
knocks and your mind will fail.
So grab your shotgun,
and out goes,
insanity,
replaced with sanity
like Kurt Cobain,
171,
Lake Washington,
Boulevard East,
Seattle, Washington,
is where he was driven sane by the hues of the rainbow,
the illusions colors.
And like a butterfly that turns to a caterpillar, you will do the same.
So please awake me,
with the dull taste,
of your peeling skin,
cut through my nose,
and travel down my spine,
so I can unshackle you from the chains,
then you can leap,
above the screaming stars,
Akai hana ga chi de somassa remasu,
And the red flowers will be stained with blood.
