I know the colors you'd choose to describe your mood.
Grey and blue. With nothing to lose.
Find a soul shaped like yours. I can't refuse.
Your ankles tied to heavy anchors
don't let them drag you down
a city run by fools and fakers
it's good to have you around
I always try to smile at strangers
we're all in this together
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Letting loose from the prescribed statistics, meandering thought processes, a vibe represented and the lyrics to fit the bill... make it numb.
purple melancholy and the scent of a salty ocean breeze on my lips, the tip of the tongue is cut and the mouth has an iron flavor and an iron constitution, though women bring these fine soldiers down into small children, the weapons drawn and recreated through various techniques of texture and resolution, they drink beer to diminish their fear for what they have done to the wondrous landscape and there is no escape for them, the bottom of an empty cup calls for a refill and this is a cyclical process until the end of time, a drunkard, a coward, a thief, there are moments of life on the streets, the homeless men begging on their knees for a drop of drink, and the deaths under the overpass, the pissed stained walking bridge, the pheromone spray-painted ceilings and the mixed up feelings, we were alive when we knew we were about to die, there are times when the heart skips a beat and the rhythm subsides, the health problems that take us all over, many of the conscious concerns and the black out girls, there are times when we have to consider what is right but that is life and so many fall victim to subordinate desires and wasteful pipe dreams of unsuccessful ventures, and the assessment of a life poorly lived and the regret to drown in, better for the tobacco wastage but the alcohol clings on with a heartfelt fury and ties in with sleepiness, late mornings and the irritability associated with those in rehabilitation centers but if this is a rock star life that is paved out in front of me then these issues are non-issues, suitable diversions from the normalcy of blue collar nine to fives, moving cars in parking lots, pushing carts, dragging garbage bags and wondering how much you are truly worth in the world, as a cog in the wheel, a predestined determined causality and the words fly clear over your god damn imbecile head, a tasteless remark and a tasteful apology, to clear things up and the beds are uncovered and the anxiety is strong and intense and the waking hours are filled with stupid regret, the nights where control is lost and the words that cause blood in mouth come out.
nobody thought we would last this long. they hated the people we are. I closed myself off as I have now. that was the mindset. get the work done. play later. play included the substances that AA meetings are run for. or against, rather. locked myself up in the tiniest room in the biggest city. and I continue by god! but the run of the mill is dead. i need the new unforeseen life with new relations and money to burn in piles in order for fun to occur. the free fun will take a long time to drain but once it does I will realize how awful it is to live with dollar signs in my eyes. may as well be tombstones in my eyes. god damn the pusher man.
plot your revenge. your schematics are fail proof. your motives are masked by lies in a confession booth. nobody can tell if you are telling the truth. but your heart always knows. when you take off your clothes.
happy to fall apart in your arms, if they only could hold me, up against that awful gravity, there are times and words for this scheme and if you aren't offering me substance or anything than I'd have to delete your memory as soon as I've left yours. around here we don't often close doors. it's all up in the air and we understand each other the better for it. sing along in chorus if you know the made up words of it. we play pretend. make believe to achieve new realities.
