Left Behind:
• Written by SeptembersSon
Coming down with broken wings
9' sat on the top of some magazines
Powder on the table and the smell of gasoline
I can't think straight, What have I seen?
My brain just keeps on vacuuming,
My hearts had holes since eighteen,
My arms have held scars since fifteen,
Hiding in the dark with rhapsody,
And I can't sleep and I can't dream,
If I can't dream well what's life mean?
These voices won't stop hassling me,
Will I succeed? paranoid from the screams,
Still searching for that bit of self-esteem,
My bodies so dark it has no theme,
My only plan is my next suicide scheme,
Drowning oh-so fuckin' happily!
Jumpin' from this balcony,
Just one gift of vitality,
Just one good thing inside of me,
I've got the gift of Satan, it's tragedy,
It goes on so substantially,
Yes I'm talking about this reality,
One more song or another catastrophe,
Is this my blood or is this blasphemy?
I can only hear what my head keeps asking me,
If I can't live what can I be,
If I can speak, why can't I scream.
If I can't die why can I bleed?
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About the Artist
SeptembersSon
Member since August 22 2014