Frobisher

Livin a lie ain’t the life I saw with eyes
Clear as peering thru thin ice pure as my pen writes
Pure as a cherub’s smile
Pressure and pain been here a while
Turn orphanage into cottage, asylum my domicile

And where my heart is this art is, an artist on the verge
Of tears in every take and worry in every word
And blood in every chorus, transfusion illusion for us
Make it better, make it less heavy, make us remember

Why we wake up in the first place this glorified hearse race
Need hospice for my courage, bandages for these answers
Truth hurts, and this song i’ll clutch til death
For a future i can remember as long as something’s left

And as everything falls apart, the lonely peace i held
Is forever for me, an infinite wishing well
Of well wishes, and didn’t listens
Cheering the sound of the bullet piercing the ceiling of my mouth with precision - Robert Frobisher