Black and White
You paint the stories black and white in pixels;
you write pictures of ivory trails and elephant tails.
This house that you've invented holds your anarchic views
and a life you falsify in vain. This house has black curtains over
brickwork to disguise the lack of windows, but we can see through
the façade - a hurricane will leave you dry, that's not the point of living.
You paint the stories; you paint them black and white but will anyone
believe it? You write pictures but we never forget.
A wooden pier; the semen stains on the stair – a relationship for you
to dip your feet in, a life you could destroy. A serenade; the torture in
a train of blue; but it didn't survive and I'm feeling free. But I'm oblivious
to love and you're dropping children like a rabbit – it’s strange, I can't
remember this novel forming from the pale lips guarding your soul. The artwork
of our lives will not coalesce, I'll follow the concrete trails and asphalt lines but
the child inside will not forgive. The pictures you write form hollow stories;
this canvas will never be black and white again.
you write pictures of ivory trails and elephant tails.
This house that you've invented holds your anarchic views
and a life you falsify in vain. This house has black curtains over
brickwork to disguise the lack of windows, but we can see through
the façade - a hurricane will leave you dry, that's not the point of living.
You paint the stories; you paint them black and white but will anyone
believe it? You write pictures but we never forget.
A wooden pier; the semen stains on the stair – a relationship for you
to dip your feet in, a life you could destroy. A serenade; the torture in
a train of blue; but it didn't survive and I'm feeling free. But I'm oblivious
to love and you're dropping children like a rabbit – it’s strange, I can't
remember this novel forming from the pale lips guarding your soul. The artwork
of our lives will not coalesce, I'll follow the concrete trails and asphalt lines but
the child inside will not forgive. The pictures you write form hollow stories;
this canvas will never be black and white again.