Sometimes it is like ever bad decision got you here
Other times it feels the good to have made the wrong choice
Most of the time it feels great to breath the soylent smog
Each day the tomb wraps me in it's cold grasp
Peace looks like a dream, mainly because it isn't free
Etching the tiny existence in a material that will perish
Only wishing the day was ours instead of yours
Perfect is narrated by the frail unrealistic pessimist
Leaching on the tit of the neighbour on life support
Eagerly counting the maggots on their genitals
No comments:
Post a Comment