wudup textcees seasons greetings
those quills still bleeding thought?
hope horizons have expanded and you've found all that you lost
dont forget the ways you fell and how it felt after the fall
there's clawmarks on the walls down to our planets core
where demons dance with wavy limbs like jungle kids on trap
slow motion spiraling to darkness as strings start to slowly snap
the devils fiddle plays a tune if you dare to strike a chord
it's notes fading into nothingness in between applying force
i let the instrument be played by the hands that had them strung
so they could play a song for other's when their final time has come
some like the tone, to each is own.. aint set in stone who gets to play
there's bangers out and every dog has it's day
i just hang out around to pay attention to the way in which they're played
and listen to the energy inside the fabric of space
our sleeves can bear the heart before each gets torn apart
so we ink the stories of our life upon our arms with art
we're worn by the path and i can laugh at myself
defaults dripping from each thought i let dwell
a bell somewhere is ringing we struck with a thought
liquid iron feeling lost from sick and bearing it's cross
i string my tones together from that sound i can taste
to make it real enough to feel i haven't let it go to waste
|