4feit

Gazin' at the present and the past
Wonder if forever could ever last
It's gettin' dark
Floatin' home and the street lights are flickerin'
Head full of bars and a frame slowly witherin'
Walk light
Feet tickle in the bishamon
The sinner sittin' covered in his sinuses and shiverin'
Hence the heat of discussions
To warm his hands again
Frost bites the finger
Still it's easier to grab the pen
Than it is to just get up off his lard ass
To stand up
And stand off
With a hard stance
Half hearted efforts
Creedance, the clever ruse
If you chose not to listen you'd never know that you never knew
And I wrote this for you
I wrote this for you
Don't you know that I wrote this for you?
(Sighs)
Guess not
Still the ink dries quicker than he jots it down
Boulders on his shoulders
Still he's colder when they're not around
Forgotten grounds of where those memories are left
Better blame the botanist for the way he makes them hostages
In this rotten esophagus
Clockin' the obvious
But what time is it?
Now he got a mic to grip
He's silenced in the sirens and the like that try to stifle him
Fruits of his labour ripening
The eyes widen at the sight of the still
Back on track like rehabilitation
Still a heathen in the making
Dreams of demons in the basement again
Grotesque figures, bodies all contorted
Swam inside my thoughts till I'm forced to wanna forfeit
Swam inside my thoughts till I'm forced to wanna forfeit
Forced to wanna forfeit