She tells me to smile, so I do to wash away her worry.
I got away with burying my conscience way too often.
I'd say I love her, but heartbreak and betray can walk in,
and make its pardon; dragging a dead body from an empty closet.
But, I bet she feels the same as me.
Stain is deeper than the make-up on her facial features that look fairly better without maybelline.
Hand me a safety-pin, I'll make a space for you to stay within my chest: it's paper-thin.
But, you've confided in another person.
In other words, these scribbled words won't skim your lovely cursive.
Underrated and nothing tastes as good as what your tongue preserves and,
his lips are what's deserved from a bunch of worthless,
meaningless, seemingly weak and nervous beings.
We can create nirvana. The cure is Minerva's sweetest kiss.
And she is it. Show me your marks and cuts.
The bones that poke through the surface of skin from starving some.
I don't need any perfection.
I sleep with imperfection.
I bleed that imperfection, nearly breathe it when I inhale, exale.
Believe it for I said it, honesty is still my best fit, on my sleeve written in ink. It's what I'm dressed in.
It's called skin. I cut across it,
but if there's no damage, what is there to fix?
I want you to know that you can be my heart as much as you can be my beauty queen for starters.
You can be my horror.
You can be my horror.
You can be my horror,
put that fear in me. Don't you disappear or the sake of my insecurity.
Can you, can you hear me out? Mi' amore...
You can be my heart as much as you can be my beauty queen for starters.
You can be my horror.
If dancing on the edge is our persuit of bliss and happiness,
we'll prove that this is masochistic beauty when it has to end.
Don't bury me besides the crucifix.
I'll sleep without my God and only you to keep warm within my casket.
They say we must confess, "til death do us part."
What if death isn't existent and forever is all that we have left when the skeleton's gone?
Swallowed by dirt and worms and then psychedelia starts?
She'll get in the coffin with me and wait for the pulse to beat 'til the metronome stops.
Try to pull her up but really should quit and let us depart.
Living and dying turns to dying and living.
They will eat our hearts in one sitting, revive us,
and try to make it all nice and pretty.
But, if God Loves Ugly, then what's the point of a tux and a white dress when time is ready for the life we emptied?
Don't whisper that you're a demon, too.
Don't be afraid that I remember what I seen in you.
It's the fact that you care. It's the passionate stare.
When I'm weak, giving up, and you're standing right there.
You've been in these shoes, but took them off for comfort.
I admire you even though I'm not the one for...
Knotted and locked in the closet, tied up and toxic.
Nod along to the science of gothic polysymphonics.
I want you to know that you can be my heart as much as you can be my beauty queen for starters.
You can be my horror.
(Hook)
credits
from The Collage EP,
released August 24, 2012
Credit goes to the band "Suffix" for the sample used within this track.
(Suffix - "Hidden Track")
Notebook. is an Alternative / Hip-Hop Musician that has been breaking down the boundaries between genres for seventeen
years, all while putting his graphic, movie-like journey sonically on display. Limitation in Art is not a rule that he abides by, and the extreme highs and gut-wrenching lows of Notebook.'s life-experience is what also makes his work so relatable....more
