Painting the chaos when 
Pain runs and meets today’s losses  
I am now raising my hands 
I descend to get lifted from all of the flames  
On the ledge of the mantle
That had once displayed 
A failed walk across a bridge I had damaged
The fuck where you land 
Past seemed to make the fucking days long 
So fast now in it  
And I’m done playing with the drugged up séances, they talk still
End it 
The problem was entities, they once claimed they were honest  
Then they traded all talk for days they would haunt me
I blamed the wrong cadence, the sails looked the same
Trees, they are walking out when no one’s standing here 
Bleed when I cough a lot, watching the planet
I can't change perspective 
The sun over what in the fuck is your damage
The plan wasn't one damage
Fuck your ladder I will take it as you crawl up 
Claw but you can't quite stop yourself falling
Astonishing you thought he caused of the fall of the god that was honestly not even part the bigger picture
Stay in center, guard it, we'll walk a fine line
Bring shame to the garden
And watch the flowers rot
To say that there wasn't a pray to your wrong a lot
And branches see the ages 
Agents of man have gone over the place we once had
Now they sit and they wait and they sanitize
Unforgiving, clearly they're angry

Showing patterns of a crossed road 
Intentions scattered  
I once painted until I fucking lost hold 
At least a thrill for the day
Then I got lonely
The what do we have left to say is better left cold  

Ashes of my passion mixed with habits and my actions
Turned this rubble in to dust
Inhale dysfunction as I impale my fate
The sword would never slay the thing abhorrent 
Entertaining or what some people sort of look away from
But I didn't look away, I claimed it home
In the fucked up place we know there's only no one left
But no one said the black flame isn't lit
Just isn't shown and when you take step
There's not you should know
What I claim is not your next days
Or safety in the cold
Fuck your mortgage  
I am portioning my order of some blow

Showing patterns of a crossed road 
Intentions scattered  
I once painted until I fucking lost hold 
At least a thrill for the day
Then I got lonely
The what do we have left to say is better left cold


Self Cannibalistic Ego

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