In the weakest of
Moments sickness becomes an inspiration.
Illness, flaws dance surely
With harmonies inside my head.
Wicked stanzas of unintelligible intelligence.
Art becomes deadly for my kind.
It is vanity and an ego that can take one whole.
In the weakest of
Moments sickness becomes the monster
That lives for fame.
Out of misery I give birth to words,
Set flames on syllables and tongues.
Defected,
Ordinary.
Blemished.
Suddenly the newest craze.
The hippest of the trends.
To walk around abound in
Psychological mysteries.
I paint my life with gold. Flecked, and
Rusted.
I paint my life with Silver. Simple, and
Rusted.
Illness is the creation, my motivation.
And it carries no ordinary pain.
My process has no explanation.
And I wear it all quite nicely,
Airbrush quality.
Oh these lips, they speak with words
That impale one another.
I write so I can pretend to know better.
My illness and I are flawed, we are perfect, we spike
Through trees with pens.
Devour the naive.
Moments sickness becomes an inspiration.
Illness, flaws dance surely
With harmonies inside my head.
Wicked stanzas of unintelligible intelligence.
Art becomes deadly for my kind.
It is vanity and an ego that can take one whole.
In the weakest of
Moments sickness becomes the monster
That lives for fame.
Out of misery I give birth to words,
Set flames on syllables and tongues.
Defected,
Ordinary.
Blemished.
Suddenly the newest craze.
The hippest of the trends.
To walk around abound in
Psychological mysteries.
I paint my life with gold. Flecked, and
Rusted.
I paint my life with Silver. Simple, and
Rusted.
Illness is the creation, my motivation.
And it carries no ordinary pain.
My process has no explanation.
And I wear it all quite nicely,
Airbrush quality.
Oh these lips, they speak with words
That impale one another.
I write so I can pretend to know better.
My illness and I are flawed, we are perfect, we spike
Through trees with pens.
Devour the naive.