1. |
Helping Hand
00:55
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Helping hand:
Silent ruination. Like mice between rotting walls. I rub lamps, hoping. I read leaves, wishing. My wounded hands heal uninspired. I set fires and worship crumbled peacetime. Never felt your heartbreak actual. Never tasted your weighted choking. Adjust your dead end needs. My fade to grey walks on hung threads. Hidden under paranoid knives. Hidden in the sun.
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2. |
Cringe
02:50
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Cringe:
Learn your punchline place at the bottom of the trough. How precise were your crowd cut teeth? Keep a dead apnea commitment. Self inflict the change you want to see in the world. How it's always been versus inevitable change. This is not a torturous understatement. Preservation as a form of self hatred. Cringing at the sound of my own name. You can build trust but it won't hold social secret weight. Lose material that shouldn't be replaced. Keep scar tissue close like generational faith. The Spirit is addicted and I am not the cure. We watch the culture burn. The wind cries with apathy stuck on the tongue. Neverminded the outside after getting in. Between the lapse and the stupor and the midnight rage was the silence following interruption. Closer to the exit instead of handy with a lighter. Making temporary friends and exposing the awareness. Cringe. Guided by dead windowsill wildlife. The iridescence calms but has no proof. We're all dead on the time. We can't live in the future. All the interactions are empty. All that matters is the empty is not my chest. My eyes close sober. With my head on the pillow and the room keeps spinning. Cringe. Lay the blame on the secrecy. We're all a little mad here.
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