The penetration of a deep and mysterious conversation. Things take root, populate of their own volition. The air is thinner on the moral high ground. Instead of oxygen, I outfit myself with noxious fumes comprised of one way lines sharper than a razor's edge. I follow the bloodstains into the next room. The mess rarely bothers me. These are pillars I cling to when surrounded by idiocy and opulence measured in pension plans and one night stands. The winter genocide of hope and vegetation taking form in a pill. Culture isnt a destation, although the tour guides of second hand thought and drive by brilliance would lead you to believe otherwise. Those who can't make shit up, fake shit up. Love is the reason they nailed him to a cross, to make a point in his hand and a line in the sand.
It's been said every time you rub one out, a kitten gets put down.
If that is true, meet me in Chinatown.
Getting off by falling down
Staying up to fuck around.
A dick like his car payment, always owing.
Insecurity like a shirt stain, forever showing
Debt like Pinocchio's nose, keeps growing
A mouth like a noise violation of the Geneva convention.
Love like a pillory, exposed, public damage
Stuck in the silence, no sound as it drowns.
I saw your ghost lingering in the fog of the cigarette smoke. Drag queens and crooked stumble down memory lane. It is better to forget. I'm my father's child in the sense I want to leave my mother. I have seen the depths of self destruction that leave no scars. The years of uncried tears and a residence in bars. Optimism and pervasive ignorance form a noose so tight you dont even know you've jumped until you see the tips of your shoes slowly swinging back and forth. You are stuck, you made your gallows. Hang in there baby, indeed.
 | The xx - Crystalised .mp3 |  |
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 | Found at bee mp3 search engine |  |
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