We are the poisoned youth.
God is dead and we have killed him.
In city, I feel my spirit is contained. Like neon, inside the glass that forms my brain. But I recently discovered it's a heatless fire. Like nicknames they give themselves to uninspire. Begin with bullet, then add fire to the proof. I'm still not sure if fear's a rival or close relative to truth. Either way it helps to hear these words bounce off of you. The softest echo may be enough for me to make it through.
You are tired, you are hurt, a moth ate through your favorite shirt, and all your friends, they fertilize, the ground you walk on, lose your mind.
WE DENOUNCE VIALISM. YOU WILL LEAVE DEMA AND HEAD TRUE EAST. WE ARE BANDITOS.
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- In your pantry cause I’m hungry and too broke to pay rent.
- JoinedApril 11, 2019