Post midnight ramblings of a future poet
Or an arrogant fuck who's only seen the sun's shadow.
Angels in exil sing prayers for the soul
With lips like soft falling rain on the stones.
Mist is but fog with a metaphorical device,
The world ends now. And who is left to care.
Stained lipstick shines on the purple sidewalks and,
Fishnets lay in a heap as the symbol of a new decadence.
Holes are overwhelming thoughts with black,
Nothing really matters because you are past the drama.
Beg the beggar to give you his life,
Sing to the singer what he has yet to hear.
Invent a new glorious era for minds like you,
Where genius dwells and wanders, roaming about,
Waiting for delivery in the independance of dreams.
Drugged whores disguised in fine women
Strive to hear the music in everyday's monotony.
Feel cursed and rise to the occasion,
Show all those fuck-ups how beautiful
Tear-stained princesses are, red lines covering white skin,
Screaming evidence to the wings attached to their backs,
Killing new-borns to steal their pure, innocent eyes.
Heart tumults as growling seas, clichéd vanity and rarity
Forsee kindered omens to luscious volupty, set it free.
Foster Amens to abandoned dreams, screech battle cries.
Because you just don't give a fuck and have
Nothing better to do, take over the world and restore it