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Some People Are Crazy Makers
I sow the hate inside when it cuts into me. I took the love I had and gave it all back to God. No life has meaning, the day to day is a masquerade, there's a fountain of hope that we choose not to drink water's a disease it keeps us circling the drain. Handed out my kindness. Replaced my heart with violence and gave my time to a stranger; who payed me back with her anger. I sow the hate inside when it cuts into me. I took the love I had and gave it all back to God. Learn your lesson well. You'll learn your lesson well. I'll teach you the role of becoming a ghost. We build the thinnest walls, cave in, come down. You are less to me than a bible verse, a small symptom of a lifetime curse. The last laughs mine smile til' I die.
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2. |
Perfect Size
02:39
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Perfect Size
Found it in a dark room, shriveled up in an empty pose, no love for my old trends, I pushed them all off the deep end. Looking back I can count the days. Since we honestly appreciate the way that we operate, on a need to know basis, our weathering faces carry the message its sad to watch and hard to stop. Live to crash, I live to crash. Count the days. No mistakes. There's no calculation of ways my ghost will break free from it's cage. NO. Better luck next time, it's the end of the night there's no sun on the rise. Burn a hole in the sky. There's a hole by your side and it's perfect fucking size. I'll cut down every tree so there's not air for you to breath. I'll poison every fruit, to make you pay for all your sins. Animals want revenge for being cursed with no voice or conscience. Goddamn this place we're in. I hope God doesn't let you in.
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3. |
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How Long
Let's not pretend we go on and on, gloom will be chasing you down. Use the same excuses, to kick the can on down the road. How long, How long - until time starts standing still. How long, How long - until I find my resting place. Picture yourself in ten years are you still around or have you disappeared. Do want you want there's no master plan, dig to China with your bare hands. I know how far it goes but there's art in fucking up. How long, How long - until time starts standing still. How long, How long - until I find my resting place. I see it now in the stained glass windows and black panes, in the eyes of the priests that led us so for off based. Just missed the question, it's not God who decides the second coming of Christ. It makes me feel so sick inside. To have been fed such foolish lies, there's no guilt in suicide. It's your choice when you're ready to die and I hope you do. I hear you loud, I hear you clearly and I understand, I understand now. Can you come to terms with how things are, nothings ever good enough, it's only a matter of time... before our downward climb. How long
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