| Good lord above
|
| I’ve got nothing of consternation anymore
|
| Months upon years, dwelling and failing
|
| To see what’s in front of me
|
| A better question to ask…
|
| Is if these fucking scars are real
|
| My veins are strychnine
|
| With burning windows in my eyes
|
| I crawl back inside my crestfallen chest and insist to exist
|
| I will never fucking change and this poses a problem
|
| For the ones who associate with this revenant
|
| I don’t know where it comes from
|
| All I know is where my malevolence travels
|
| I’m drained, insane, disdain, the pain —
|
| Is the only force at work in me
|
| This has been a long time coming, here we go
|
| Flip the switch and step back
|
| It doesn’t matter who hears this
|
| It doesn’t matter who interprets what in which way
|
| You will never dissect these words and think you know
|
| What’s going on in me
|
| This is simply a passage
|
| A signal sent from the transistors up above
|
| Tales of an iconoclast heretic cynic dissident
|
| With all the answers but no will to share |