When attraction is separated from
vision, true vision, useless, both of
them, you notice what is real, come,
I am this house, I am these walls, I am this bed,
flowerpetals, candles, a breeze, curtains visiting.
In search, in need, desperate, true love.
All this time is wasted, all along I was a fool, mislead,
by me. Clueless, fire's gone, petals gone, curtains revisiting.
They'll never understand, I wish they tried more.
I should not keep running, playing, if I'm not capable, not ready to score.
Low profile, high pace, beat, when plans are like a boat,
hours thinking, still it doesn't float, I missed a hole and now
I'm in a loop. Acting like I don't, failed acting, just denying somehow.
Why has always been the leader of my brain, not me.
I've ripped papers, shred them, killed moments, demolished them,
and most of all erased.
I got caught up with this taste
its fresh but backbiting taste, pineapple
as long as it's not kiwi.
I am not capable of letting go.
Everything means something.
I just try to make life into that movie, the movie that made you cry last night, because it was so romatically pretty.
Identity crisis, in may, in snow.
Turns out it wasn't over, it was dramatically horrifying.
I tried to make it look like a candle at his final moment.
