opium is coffee in rewind

oh fuck
what kind of place is this you created
the walls actually bleed
there's wax building in the eve of the ceiling and the rotten wood smell reminds me of my last encounter with the television

the words that i have here
they wont come to account for me
when i sit calm and translucent behind bars
i got a finger on the pulse of the next times

feeling that low is really the high point
for those who couldn't handle the idea of death as an art form
you know the soft hearted who save the last bite of everything to cherish later in the taxi towards the tunnel

bite hard
those teeth are amazing
and i still can't feel all of my finger tip baby
stomach churns and turns the world an ugly purple hue
i miss the old times that haven't really aged
just sort of shuffled off with out

time to make the doughnuts
slaughter your innocent before the bed time story
its so much more dramatic to read the new harry beanbag book to a house full of recurring nightmares that your parents had stuffed behind the tv stand

opium is coffee in rewind