i know all your thoughts its the same way that you read my mind
thaat all turned to rot when believing became so unkind
now that i have been taught that there's no sense in giving it time
i'd rather not talk than be a child just speaking in rhyme
staying in bed
you were younger then
it's difficult to search you out
i do it when i'm lonesome
i try it at the worst times
staying in your head
you were younger than
it's difficult to figure out
speaking in rhyme
my veins are luke warm
itching for hot blooded ones
i forget to breathe
flinching for a golden tongue
medicate my head
sell me something they control
ibogaine instead
it begins to overflow
i know what i know
heaven is a lie
i know what i know
i'm prepared to die
No comments:
Post a Comment