Is it getting better?
Human. Deception. Vulgar. Ask me in the morning when everything's clearer. When the tension in the back of my eyes fades. When this crude experimentation is over. Ask me when its clearer. (No)
do you feel the same?
Will it make it easier on you now?
never will or can. I don't feel at all. Not like you do. (Nothing
is better, nothing is easier)
(Shades of grey… shades of grey)
You got someone to blame
(Possession is nine tenths of the law)
In the night
(Beam me up)
Lingers… lingers. Out damn spot.
want you to lay twisted before my eyes, wriggling pitifully, faced
with the emptiness which is a life where I belong devoid of you.
you come here for forgiveness?
Have you come to raise the dead?
Have you come here to play Jesus?
Scratching? Always scratching, pressure in the back of the eyes. Madness, vulgarity. The minds eyes sees only what the body cannot tolerate.
Then we do it again
each other, never such fair play my boy. I am god, I am in control,
the puppeteer. Do you fear me now? Do you loath me? Could you ever? (Could I ever let you?)
A height only I can reach, with my angelic status and inclination to rule. I soar as you crawl, I smile as we brawl, I tease, I shred.
(Did you expect any less?)
I can't keep holding on
To what you got
When all you've got is hurt
of it what you can.
You hear us coming Lord
Can You hear us call
Feel us knocking
We're knocking at Your door
(I hear you my child)