BUILDING BLUEPRINT

Next level lyrical insight is a moment away.

morbid string (unfinished)

Is it repeatedly botching suicide or surviving
life threateningly bad decisions that makes you bad at dying?
At what point is it no longer considered being the "runt of the litter"
when the litter's all but alive. I'm trying
to find a meaning to a metaphor I've never heard spoken aloud before
yet it's sung in every last song.
And every son of a two, that's one plus another one, thinks they've got a clue of truth,
but they're all dead wrong.
What is death if not the definition of living.
The end to an actuality that if absent wouldn't be worth giving
a good percentage of your concern for.
Only the living can die, and we'll all get our turn. Yours
will come. Mine went. And then all that's left
is what was alive, what is, what won't be, and what isn't yet.
As far as situations go, what you got or didn't get
won't matter so much in the end as how it was spent.
Fine lines crossed weave fine nets.
Like the one between catching and holding your breath.
Putting the 'stag' in 'stagnant' puts your dreams in past tense.
Dreamt. Commit to combat, attack static. Stay off the fence.
Tranquil ignorance. A less than innocuous
addiction to the sweet kiss of a mistress' apoca lips.
Oblivious to the obvious.

1 syllable

2 syllables

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5+ syllables

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