Good dreams are nightmares to me
Give me things I can't receive
Make me be who I can't be
Give me those I'll never see
I can't stand having those dreams
Pretend some girl would love me
Wake up not wanting to breathe
Good dreams exist to deceive
I hate that I can't trust you
I hate that I'm so done with you
I hate when you cut my wrists
I hate that I'm comfortable with this
I hate that I can't leave yet
I hate that you wanna reset
I hate that you're all I need
I hate that you're trapped in me
The dancer will see your eyes and stretch his legs to a v
Arch his back upwards without mentioning
Any preference you may have, always ends with both backs stabbed
We call this art now so take all you can grab
With the joining of two mouths there is only evil there
Bite your tongue out as you feel his beard hair
There is no pleasure to share, so just rewrite that to pain
Rinse and repeat until all feelings are the same
God if you could just hear all of these thoughts I have, you would puke
I am so tired of having to be rebuked, what do I do
I am so scared to talk to anybody else just in case
I slip up and talk all psycho and contort my horrid face
I couldn't run, ended up spinning
Ran in edged circle a billion innings
All of those who refuse to pray are now just no longer sinning
I shot by the grass, knocked over dip cans
I tried to run faster but broke all of my hands
My ambition's flat, banshee's in the past
No competition but I still just placed last
Every time someone tells you that you are not alone, give it back
They only say it for themselves, you do not deserve any help
If you say that you need a friend, your blank phone will reflect your end
They will take everything from you, and never return any truth
You ain't the same guy I once knew
You got no reason to trust you
You don't know who I am yet
Know that the word "Yet" indeed implies intent
You're my favorite part of the day sunshine
Stare at the void in the mirror forever until you're blind
You know something? There's someone else that would remind
The stalker that he can always find you at this place and time
(Align my spine in morning sunshine
In morning I'm mourning the waste of my time)
Smiles are quiet
Cries ignite rockets
What is ideal
I am not real
Bruja sits in rocking chair it creeks inside the wind
Her charts align with static when your train of thought rescinds
The wood of her porch is filled with all types of mites and worms
But they dare not touch her lest all their children become cursed