Back in the darkness,
I’m tasting harshness, trapped in & pain is a harness, where the fuck is my
Tardis? Take me back in time and I’ll try my hardest…
Transformed back in to
liar, transforming so much I’m going to be ducking and diving with Shia,
performing from sunrise I’m fucking the lies in to the flames of a fire,
torching names and selling my hurt to the first buyer. I’m not Di Caprio as
Romeo I’m a magnet for hoes and sickness that grows around my soul and one day
blows up like when a bomb explodes. And I’m now going to be so cold that when
it snows the ice will feel cold when it hits my soul and even the sun knows
that its good days are gone because when it shines on me it needs to put some
clothes on.
And I’m going to make
you wish that you had never been born, when I decide to get my revenge like
Emily Thorne. You’re going to feel the wrath, the pain and the scorn, you’ll
walk into the trap and the game will be like porn. Because you’ll be getting
fucked over like you fucked over me, fucked in the brain and your mind will
start to bleed. You think that you have freedom but you will never be free, you
always think that you’re the victim and this time I will agree, cos I’m going
to take it to a level that you could never reach, you’re finally out of back up
lives this game you can’t complete.
I can’t hate a man with
a face like a ten year old boy, a smug smirk because he’s been given a new toy.
A berk but he is the king of the playground, everybody wants to look at what
he’s holding, but kids get bored and one day he’ll drop you like you’re
scalding. And fuck yes I told him! But he had the dice and he chose to roll’em,
he may be nice but his dignity and brain he sold’em. Don’t ignore a message
when it’s been delivered from hell, don’t ignore the devil when he rings your
doorbell. See I’m not a grass and I’m not a tell-tell but you designed the past
and like a fool you fell, for your own bravery, now things are going to turn unsavoury,
love is gone forever but to show you who I am it’s not too late for me.
[I’m not afraid of the
dark the dark is afraid of me, I can hear all the dogs as they bark, but
they’re scared and so they should be. This ghost fucks the offensive, if given
the chance it would decide not to live, it senses that it can’t breathe in a
world full of censors. Death is a peaceful misery the paradoxical world with no
fences. Nevertheless, I keep climbing, searching for the non-existent silver
lining. Ironing out the creases before I can find out what peace is. Wondering
if I’d prefer to know what eases the pain, ever learning that there’s no cure
for this stain. A gun resting on my tongue no need to aim, a final song I’ve
sung, I’ve seen my final frame.]
[If I sing a final song
I sing a song about a place where lights burn brighter, where birds fly higher,
Elvis on the stage and I’m in the crowd with a lighter. He sings about a wind
of promise that blows away the doubt but as it blows past me all it does is put
my fire out. And he believes that if I have the strength to dream then I can
redeem my soul and fly, but I would rather load this gun and shoot myself and
die. Supposedly out in the dark he says there’s a beckoning candle but life has
shut my eyes to hope and lies are too much hurt to handle.]
[The last thing I see
is the knuckle on my hand, I don’t even get to see my knees buckle when I can
no longer stand. The blood is like a river flowing through the land and people
will say he’s on a beach in heaven but I can’t see the sand. The mourners will
drop their flowers in my grave that I don’t want and they will cry for hours
after I am in the dark forever, but they have so many more corners left to turn
& hurt they’ll have to endeavour and one day they’ll forget that they ever
cried together. I would rather burn to ash and be thrown in to the air because
maybe one day you’ll breathe me in and see how much you care. Scatter me on the
playground where I last had any hope, where I dangled from a rope climbing up towards
my dreams never seeing the end. I’ve seen the end and the rope was broken, just
like my heart is now, if ghosts do play then I want to play there, kicking a
ball between two bins, and I will cheer and I will hear… people saying only
good things.]
I may not know how to
lead a normal life, to grow within the mould and bear it till the day I die. I
don’t care for normality or fashion I’ll draw my own reality and fight the
truth with passion. I don’t know how to deal with fools who fool me, or block
the hypnotism of promises that sometimes get to rule me. And long ago I left
alone the cool me, and called out the devil who has yet to come and duel me.
The battle of the mind is one that I have yet to win, but I have sipped the
finest wine with soldiers on the brink, and I have met many men who’ve drowned
but I am yet to sink.
And I don’t give a fuck
what any dickhead thinks, or sluts who make up inbox links. Who’ve had more
cocks then I’ve had drinks. The dirt you have etched on your skin can’t be
washed off in the bath, and you can scrub your hardest, but you can’t scrub it
off your heart. That grin I used to have a thing for, now looks so slimy and
perverse, and next time you want to be a whore I hope you have your lies
rehearsed. If nobody has told you this then let me be the first, you are a
somebody that nobody would ever want to wife, because you’ve been Rollin’ more
than Fred Durst, and each bed degrades your life.
How somebody who was
heeling so well could sell their body back to hell is beyond me, and if you
thought that I would let this go then you got to know the wrong me. And with
every man who thinks he can just put his arms around your waist, I see the
photos of all these men and what you are is not to my taste.
The hurting will now be done behind the curtain. I am not sure of
anything anymore that is for certain.
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