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Your silver skin |
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That crawls in rhythm, sweats like spring |
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Returns me to the deathwish |
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And all my epiphanies |
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That branded me and broke my knees |
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Confirms me into the deathwish |
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Misfits for free |
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A gravity pure expression tears and |
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Pulls them into the deathwish |
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And all our accessories |
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That concentrate the pain and tease |
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Embrace them, with the deathwish |
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Are we pretending? |
|
Are we pretending? |
|
Are we pretending? |
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I like pretending |
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Are we machines |
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Obsolete, alone |
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With symbiotic self-indulgence |
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And if we dig deep |
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The circuitry burnt out, bends |
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Into neurotic repetition |
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But your silver skin soothes my aching curses |
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And reminds me |
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That you're worth it |
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The whole world's insanities |
|
The bleeding hearts and tragedies |
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Won't distract me from the deathwish |
|
Are we pretending? |
|
Are we pretending? |
|
Are we pretending? |
|
I like pretending |
|
Are we pretending? |
|
Are we pretending? |
|
Are we pretending? |
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'Cause I like pretending |
