The transparency of their soul. Devastated the city with their pinnochio talks. Abandon all the struggle.
Put that rose in your brain and see the blood on my hands. Rip my chest off and see what’s inside. Iridescent.
Wretch’s corpse can’t tell you anything. This bayside view won’t let you go any further. This ain’t a syndrome but a scene of a murder.
Not sober enough to talk, high enough to kill, and drunk enough to bless. Can be an outfight but desperate.
She’s trapped in the spider’s web. I don’t need your sympathy, so just go with it. Bring a gun so you can be safe and sound.
But even if those spider’s web trapped her for this short time, she don’t even care with the caterpillar down there.
Traitor and their sympathy. Lock the door and don’t ever look back. If you want to be free, don’t play the game.
Once the door unlocked, they always try to find a joy with what’s inside. So undeniable and incredible, because the joy wasn’t inside.
She’s outside now, living a life and don’t even care with the rules. And all of the spiders dead because they’re put a gun in their mouth.
They’re pulled the trigger and everything’s fine. No tears for revenge, no blood on their hands. Abandoned town in the edge of the country.
