i solicit sex scandals and wear no sandals
with years more on my love life, i've got something to share
bruised knuckles and broken hearts
bad haircuts and banging on the window
until the strangers are ready to drown
you wanna watch us all die
you wanna watch us all melt
and i just wanna watch us all laugh
cry and escape, because that's what becomes of us all
we're gonna meet our reflection in the mirror
and we should know that we reflect on every peer
sit still and keep yourself under the heart
i've got enough of the first part
bottle dreams and blurred night scenes
its an abattoir hidden under Capote
its the subtitle under the fine print of the brochure
the projects we continue to do after graduating high school
it's seven steps to the hell inside
and it's eighteen minutes to the death of laughter
enough of this, enough of that
art has died in my arms and
art has died in your own words.
~Painting in the back room, painting your face in the moon again.
I love you with every bone,
Digress.
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