1. |
Hatred Becomes Virtue
03:07
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In a way, I'll always be yours.
Scratching our names into the earth, fixating on the point where all our failures converge. Torn from the soil, both stalk and stem fated to die by our own hands.
We became like flowers, cut clean, and laid bare, across the margins of the pages that make up the stories of who we used to be.
These lacerations, bleeding out my heart for you. Our sickness disguised as devotion. These lacerations, self abusive inclinations, this hatred becomes virtue.
Who will sanctify the dirt in which we lay, our petals pressed into pages of stories with forgotten endings. Peel back the petals, decay always finds a way.
These lacerations, bleeding out my heart for you. Our sickness disguised as devotion. These lacerations, self abusive inclinations, this hatred becomes virtue.
In a way, I'll always be yours.
Hearts grow colder as the soil deepens, further down than any roots dare to grow. A life in loathing, this hatred as virtue, not only binding me to you.
Peel back the petals, decay always finds a way.
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2. |
Agony in Absence
03:00
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And if your spirit still lingers here, it bends and breaks with the light, never passing into sight, phasing through darkness, flooding through eyelids, falling in and out of dreams again.
And only agony remains in the space that this absence claimed. The equilibrium cannot sustain, the spirit seeks to disconnect from its mortal frame.
And if only heaven meant forever, what I'd give to die in your arms again, so close your hands tighter around my neck until it breaks.
And with a mouth full of blood, I tried to call your name. Caught somewhere between my heart and my throat, I tried to call your name, I choked.
And if your spirit still lingers here, suspended in selfish ideation, wings clipped as you descend from dreams into concrete. Forever is a suicide pact.
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3. |
Misery Forever
03:28
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Our love relapsing in grayscale, we can watch the colors run, seeping out through opened veins, giving substance to this pain.
Bloodletting shame, what's left when everything else drains away?
Our bodies are funeral pyres, deathbeds for all of our tomorrows. Helpless, we gasp, for our final breaths, before we move past our former selves.
Show me where to find the words to paint a portrait of this weight. Love letters inked in black and gray, (like) an ache that never dissipates.
Even still, within our heartbeat so faint, an echo pierces and drains. A canvas stained in what remains, leaving us hollow.
What can you say of fear and failure? What can you say of fracture and grief? What can you say of a hollowness made whole through misery?
And our bodies are funeral pyres, numb to the touch, yet burning in withdrawal. Our love relapsing through opened veins, bloodletting shame, a canvas stained in what remains.
Show me where to find the words to paint a portrait of this weight. Love letters inked in black and gray, (like) an ache that never dissipates.
Our love relapsing in grayscale, we can watch the colors run.
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4. |
One More Final
04:23
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Could this be the final goodbye? Time weeps like an open wound and we fail in our connection. Extending my arteries to your poison in the purest expression of insecurity.
There's nothing left of us to salvage, so save your selfish words.
Still holding this hell in the palm of my hands, a razor blade's edge revealing who I am. Sinking down, from pedestal to grave, I never meant for you to see the worst in me.
Another forever loaded in the chamber, bound in a promise we could never keep. If closure is just an illusion that we create, and if we are all that separates, then for what it's worth, I hope you get what you deserve.
So save your selfish words.
Still holding this hell in the palm of my hands, a razor blade's edge revealing who I am. Sinking down, from pedestal to grave, I never meant for you to see the worst in me.
Another forever in the chamber, bound in a promise we could never keep. A bullet etched with one more final 'I need you' - the purest expression of insecurity.
Still holding this hell in the palm of my hands, a razor blade's edge revealing who I am. Sinking down, from pedestal to grave, I never meant for you to see the worst in me.
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