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[Intro] |
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"I will soon start to read poetry |
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Uh... might as well start about now" |
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[Verse 1] |
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If my lungs can withstand these filth icicles |
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The angels dust across the land of false prophets |
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Maybe I clutch my poetry tighter |
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Just to feel like these walls are still listening to drama |
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Don't bother the carpenter, there soon he plays harbinger |
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He couldn't shake the moccasin a moniker |
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They only know him from watching upon their monitor |
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Maybe they'll cop a feel of a feeling from brain opera |
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[Hook 1] |
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Life is an homage to death |
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These cousins never kissed, nor laid in the bed to rest |
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I sketch breath with sharp and broken pencils |
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The message is permanent, it's been etched into the mental |
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"What do you think about the stars in the sky?" |
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I'll be seeing them soon |
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"...in the, in the sky?" |
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"It's okay, I guess" |
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[Verse 2] |
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My skin is drenched in shadows |
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But it's high noon and I'm on the back of a camel |
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Thirst is just an essence the devil is whispering |
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As I slip into a room with a fountain, running rivers of gin |
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See what you can have if you just loosen your grip |
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The noose is just a rope and the pupil is just a drip |
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Seeking light in the the darkness |
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The dog in me is barking |
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[Verse 3] |
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I procure drops of dark matter |
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It's pure oceanic space inside my eyelids |
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The planets are in my iris |
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Bronze light beams gold, king Midas |
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They duck diving, each riches like pretty wives |
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You never felt alive if you've never died |
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My bones never ache and my song never cries |
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I fall weightless in the wake of greatness |
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[Hook 2] |
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Life is an homage to death |
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These cousins never kissed, nor laid in the bed to rest |
|
I sketch breath with sharp and broken pencils |
|
The message is permanent, it's been etched into the mental |
|
"What do you think about the stars in the sky?" |
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I'll be seeing you soon |
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"...in the, in the sky?" |
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"It's okay, I guess" |
