Hanging eyes all dressed in sickness.
Sorrowed lungs all filled with mud.
Nightmares and daydreams, daily more vicious, til memories always smell of blood.
And I want the end, my mind is made.
So bring it all down, I'm not afraid.
My veins are boiling, dancing pyretic.
Conviction nauseous, choked, effete.
Forever held in, never exhaling.
Til the reddest bandage soaking wet, again.
And I want the end, my mind is made.
So bring it all down, I'm not afraid.
The stare of ice, the smile of winter.
The glass of love, all fingerprints.
My vision's oily, burning, and splintered,
with jealous flames consuming it.
And as they climb and burn my mind, I can't make out which ones are true and which ones are lies.
And I want the end, my mind is made.
So bring it all down, I'm not afraid.
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