Psychotic Good
I can’t get enough air in my seashell
And those august nights make me feel disgustingly well,
I’m gonna follow my path down and away,
Spilling my wrath, cause I’ve got nobody to tell
And no particular reason to stay.
I have a book of poetry compressed to .flac,
Zero and a half liters of not giving a fuck,
And a beating heart, still intact,
Painted black.
I walk along the streets littered with one-hour-affairs
And envy thrown out by people walking in pairs,
Wishing my eyes could kill or at least choke,
Or even cause a stroke,
Because the deal that I made with love left me broke.
Yeah, I know I lack ethics,
I guess when I lost my friends to marriage and career
I got a little crazy having no one near,
I filled the void with immaterial aesthetics.
It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.
There still are people who may find me impressing
But my silver tongue is not a treasure,
But a mixed blessing,
And I’m afraid to give up, get blinded by hate
To retaliate
And find myself killing for pleasure.
May I remind you,
I’ve become a spellbinder
Quite long ago,
And if I get inside you
I can make you my pawn,
But my conscience protests against this law.
I find it hard to cope
With a wish of becoming a major ass,
Just because you’ve damaged my hope
Like a piece of glass.
But then I think if it’s really worth
To despise everyone who’s got something alike
With that one person on whole Earth?
Yeah, too much hype for tonight.
I haven’t got much time until I leave,
I don’t wanna know what time will unfold
But don’t wanna stick to the story being told,
I don’t know if it’ll change, maybe August knows,
But I can’t trace
Whether she wants to hold me close
Or she’s laughing into my face.
And those august nights make me feel disgustingly well,
I’m gonna follow my path down and away,
Spilling my wrath, cause I’ve got nobody to tell
And no particular reason to stay.
I have a book of poetry compressed to .flac,
Zero and a half liters of not giving a fuck,
And a beating heart, still intact,
Painted black.
I walk along the streets littered with one-hour-affairs
And envy thrown out by people walking in pairs,
Wishing my eyes could kill or at least choke,
Or even cause a stroke,
Because the deal that I made with love left me broke.
Yeah, I know I lack ethics,
I guess when I lost my friends to marriage and career
I got a little crazy having no one near,
I filled the void with immaterial aesthetics.
It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.
There still are people who may find me impressing
But my silver tongue is not a treasure,
But a mixed blessing,
And I’m afraid to give up, get blinded by hate
To retaliate
And find myself killing for pleasure.
May I remind you,
I’ve become a spellbinder
Quite long ago,
And if I get inside you
I can make you my pawn,
But my conscience protests against this law.
I find it hard to cope
With a wish of becoming a major ass,
Just because you’ve damaged my hope
Like a piece of glass.
But then I think if it’s really worth
To despise everyone who’s got something alike
With that one person on whole Earth?
Yeah, too much hype for tonight.
I haven’t got much time until I leave,
I don’t wanna know what time will unfold
But don’t wanna stick to the story being told,
I don’t know if it’ll change, maybe August knows,
But I can’t trace
Whether she wants to hold me close
Or she’s laughing into my face.
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29.08.2011 в 12:58-
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30.08.2011 в 14:43