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3 100%
0 0%
Voters: 3.
I called it "Art."

Everybody's out making names for themselves
But I'm just making out to forget myself
I'll take my God damned existentialism
And check it at the door
But everytime they kiss it sounds like
White noise.
Can't you feel the lights
Shining down on all of us
It's impossible to see them with your Star-Sun Glasses
But, This is Broadway, baby!
What did you expect?
Why didn't anyone tell
How this is the perfect scene
To end our blockbuster,
This is our soundtrack
A forged attempt at being something special,
Capsulizing feeling.
we would both die on the same deathbed, making love like cigarettes.
Behind plastic masks and pick-up lines,
I hide my true facade.


A single sentiment,
up in the attic,
Where dust and dark collect,
hidden away from your dramatics.

Collect all of your intuition.
Throw it away and stick to guessing.
You'll never know if you were right,
to do the things you'll do tonight.

Lets burn the candle at both ends.
Meet somewhere in the middle.
Who will be the one to strike the match?

We're finding comfort in bottles.
Leaving them all hollow.
We all shake the hand of gravity,
to test the boundaries of love.

Whoever said that you wanted this fate.
Another poet dead at the scene.
Who ever said I'd forgiven you yet.
Another promise torn at the seams.

It's only through this silence that I'll harbour your regrets.
It's only through this distance that I'll trade my innocence.

You could call this payback,
for what you've done to me.
But I will call it freedom,
from your dependency.