A spot of hope in a mess of destruction, fairytale's always have their own morbid twist-gruesome endings. A perfect moment shattered in interruption, the perfect murder when addiction meets its addicter. Cacophonous silence and relevance lacks substance with eyes wide shut I stand in recognition, I take the blame. Remnations of consequential bliss that you turned away
from when millions of miles away our hands touched.
Though moments of recall, factor to nothing piercing my eyes into yours like power probes of persistance with desperation apparent yet I still exist.
So I strive in darkness, I think out loud through hemispheres of conceptual finding power lines of pardon paradox striking with its vast force. Tread on my ground through mountains of self regret, reflection flattery.. poison discrambling through glycerine shots and cyanide sweets.
Under the sqeaking clean moutaintops of misery I fall.
Beauty was never really captured until now and it's all a lie, it's a glossified picture, it's a gun in your hand to your head, a stubborn trigger in trembling fingers and subconcious resistence...
Screeching vocals, octaves of unexplainable shame. A lullaby so loud and jarring that the purity is ruptured, with the softest touch to its earshot the dream now lacking serenity... nothing but a fucking song without a voice.
Screams so loud, no one can hear them.