| Underestimated, spreading out contagious oversaturation
|
| Strengthened apparitions beat away aggression’s altered state
|
| Pretentions crunch in anaesthesia, conscious anaesthesia, huh?
|
| Weave the worm through, bound to being the bait that I am
|
| Spilling ominous trails of blood from rejection
|
| And as foul as it all is, of an autacoids stench
|
| Numb from holding it in for too long forgotten
|
| And even if it’s true, what’s been said
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| Never mind 'bout not having to flinch
|
| Being one step ahead of yourself made anagrams of your stealth
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| Attitudes insignificant lost in everlasting sickness, Writhe in instinct
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| Anachronistic, brick-by-brick shutting out all reflections of size
|
| Letting it go backwards, fall then materialize
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| In remorse, incomplete killed in spite of defeat
|
| As conclusive accomplishments cannibalize more lies
|
| As wise as you are, regret’s designed the scars
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| That mark the rest of your sheltered life’s logistics
|
| Soaked in rapture, clean clots. |
| unebbed dead?
|
| To cull the rumour going 'round
|
| That’re occurring f*cking sound |
| Emptiness, denial, thoughtlessness
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| Sadistic ties surmise, fantasise
|
| To make that vertigo go away and make forever everyday
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| Not even in itself is the self right, it’s taken as nothing
|
| Necessity just to keep giving something
|
| It’s selfish
|
| Laziness, desire, sacrifice, a dream
|
| The spawn of hypocrisy’s birthed opportunity offering reasons
|
| Soul, waste of time, not even unexplained
|
| Maybe forthright, there could be a purpose
|
| I think destiny told me so, last nights intro
|
| In utero, I’ve carried spawn for hates
|
| Cut the guiding apostle, taking dues from underneath
|
| Footing swept from beneath, the realm of a place I’ll never go
|
| Brick-by-brick retention, altered shape rejection
|
| Chameleon’s mould to the outcome
|
| Distorting the mirrors, reflecting the view
|
| Bait that I am
|
| Grinding paranoia calculating from a distance
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| Between difference, different sides collide an unmissing stride
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| Running on agony, racing to answers that’s finding out something that’s
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| Stapled itself necessary, not to be true. |
| Life’s simple? |
| Democratic tantamount in impotence |