Untitled
I believe in dreaming, cause I believe in nothing.
So tell me what you've got, I'll exchange in discretion.
But the words are hardly flowing through the sweat that slicks your hands.
It's as rancid as the beating of your heart.
What I've got to use and what I've got to prove come to a new light.
There are thumbtacks in our arms and numbers on our wrists to remind us of each other.
I doubt you'll remember the shot to his head, and the butterflies that took flight that day, with a bang and with the blood.
You're just another success story now ,when the angel succumbs to awkward persuasion.
The holy brings suicide to itself and we all share a grievance for your dying beauty.
Through the ill-fitting masks and warped voices, we are all fakes.
(A/N:To be continued while I work on my first fic)
So tell me what you've got, I'll exchange in discretion.
But the words are hardly flowing through the sweat that slicks your hands.
It's as rancid as the beating of your heart.
What I've got to use and what I've got to prove come to a new light.
There are thumbtacks in our arms and numbers on our wrists to remind us of each other.
I doubt you'll remember the shot to his head, and the butterflies that took flight that day, with a bang and with the blood.
You're just another success story now ,when the angel succumbs to awkward persuasion.
The holy brings suicide to itself and we all share a grievance for your dying beauty.
Through the ill-fitting masks and warped voices, we are all fakes.
(A/N:To be continued while I work on my first fic)