---

What I wouldn’t give to tread over Apollonian lines
Leave them whispers of dust amidst Dionysian laughter
Your discomfort alone would make it so worthwhile
As you petition blindly to a sickened choir
I will fashion the blade to help you spite your face

You are entirely misguided
You are so goddamn malignant
What is it that you want?
I wish to end your sad whimpering with a bang

You are an altogether new kind of trigger warning
I wouldn’t cast on anyone
You invented the art of jumping the gun

A mass of pleading fat and bone
Lacking muscles and a spine
You must have consumed your twin in the womb
Didn’t you?
How impressive.

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.