If two plus two is four and four plus four is eight, then where does that leave eight? Single digits, doubled, fascination. Forgotten, not deprived, spoiled, and not forgotten. Left alone, that's what they want... no, they seek attention and forgotten praise. Everything is simply mind over matter. Think, see, acknowledge, register, react. Think, see, react... react, react, react. Over-consumption, careless, free... really? Who wasn't... who is, who never thought they could be. Reach in, grab what you need, rip everything else to pieces, laugh. Anger, anger, anger, react. Too much reaction leads to suffering, though not to self absorbers, no; to everything beyond, and before. Shaking, thinking, see. See what has been witnessed. Swallow the guilt, swallow the sickness that's rising in your throat; you're a big girl now. Poke it, mock its ridiculous demise, and beg the saints for your own. Everything seems brighter on the other side... yet it's blinding on the side of start... so what could possibly fuel the attraction?
You wouldn't know.
Flash, simmer, think, think, think see. See what has become of the world, of life, of death, and your personality disorder. See, react. See, fear. See, believe, and you're dead. Can't believe, no, no, no. Believing is for those with hope, with trust, with more in life for them than a mission. Mission; destroy. Mission; gain, lose, gain, win. Losing has become the hobby for the innocent being within the soul. Nothing could compare, nothing could revive the stricken desire to gain, and to continue the pursuit of attraction, lust, and humiliation on others' parts. Warmth, comfort... No! Childish moments seem as simplicity, but can no longer escape. Changing, changing, changing, react.
Fingers cramping, though not from exhaust, simply itching to lose control, to burn a fire through their hearts, to leave an indexed trace along her face, then laugh hideously to the sky. You cannot imagine what could possibly dwell inside this body, inside this shell of human skin. I dare you...
I just fucking dare you.
Flash, flash, flash like the memories... goodbye. Flash like the longing of fading faces... goodbye. Flash like the moments captured that were too real, too honest to be captured by film, only in the mind... goodbye.
Flashes fill my thoughts, like flashbacks before death. Fleeting and seething, dying yet breathing. Surrounded by moments of truth, moments of weakness, and moments of what could have, should have, but never will be... real. I will be alright.
Bipolar Personality Disorder... want to sell.
Attention Deficit Disorder... want to sell.
Humanity... wants to die.
But that's alright, that's okay, tomorrow wont matter as much as the yesterdays, and tomorrow is what counts the most. Today could die, yesterday was just along for the rise... but tomorrow... oh, tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day that judges everything. Every tomorrow will judge how you feel; judge how others feel... reaction. Though really, how another reacts is solely up to you. You do, in fact, create this world around you... have you not figured that out yet? You've created everything, the earth, planets, whatever you may need to keep you (in your mind) sane. When you gaze upon a flower, why is it purple? Is that the actual colour? What are actual colours? You've made them up, darling. You've made up everything around you.... the people who choose to be around you, don't have a choice... in fact, they merely exist only in your mind. They're just paws, pawns in your little world for you to toy with, watch suffer and wither endlessly until you get bored and whip them away. It’s out of sight, out of mind, and literally, out of this world. Narcissistic bitch.
Sociopathic thoughts rock my world.
React, react, react. Think, fuck, lose everything inside, but gain more than you could imagine. Freedom, careless abilities... pain could no longer be an issue, the emotion of hurt or struggle seems distant, as though is had never dared to imprint before. Past? What past? I've never heard of such nonsense. It's all now, and now, and now, and now, and of course... now. Don't forget tomorrow. Judgment day will seize what you need, but you need to pass the text to ensure complete satisfactory. Tomorrow will slit your throat wide open and gaze at all of the suppressed sickness, so swallow it all down. Deeper, deeper, and now you're free to react. It's all about skill, and heartlessness. Lose everything and gain the world, in the mother-fucking palm of your hand.
Mmm metaphysics and mouse guts.
They think I'm crazy, but I know I have it all figured out.
You wouldn't know.
Flash, simmer, think, think, think see. See what has become of the world, of life, of death, and your personality disorder. See, react. See, fear. See, believe, and you're dead. Can't believe, no, no, no. Believing is for those with hope, with trust, with more in life for them than a mission. Mission; destroy. Mission; gain, lose, gain, win. Losing has become the hobby for the innocent being within the soul. Nothing could compare, nothing could revive the stricken desire to gain, and to continue the pursuit of attraction, lust, and humiliation on others' parts. Warmth, comfort... No! Childish moments seem as simplicity, but can no longer escape. Changing, changing, changing, react.
Fingers cramping, though not from exhaust, simply itching to lose control, to burn a fire through their hearts, to leave an indexed trace along her face, then laugh hideously to the sky. You cannot imagine what could possibly dwell inside this body, inside this shell of human skin. I dare you...
I just fucking dare you.
Flash, flash, flash like the memories... goodbye. Flash like the longing of fading faces... goodbye. Flash like the moments captured that were too real, too honest to be captured by film, only in the mind... goodbye.
Flashes fill my thoughts, like flashbacks before death. Fleeting and seething, dying yet breathing. Surrounded by moments of truth, moments of weakness, and moments of what could have, should have, but never will be... real. I will be alright.
Bipolar Personality Disorder... want to sell.
Attention Deficit Disorder... want to sell.
Humanity... wants to die.
But that's alright, that's okay, tomorrow wont matter as much as the yesterdays, and tomorrow is what counts the most. Today could die, yesterday was just along for the rise... but tomorrow... oh, tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day that judges everything. Every tomorrow will judge how you feel; judge how others feel... reaction. Though really, how another reacts is solely up to you. You do, in fact, create this world around you... have you not figured that out yet? You've created everything, the earth, planets, whatever you may need to keep you (in your mind) sane. When you gaze upon a flower, why is it purple? Is that the actual colour? What are actual colours? You've made them up, darling. You've made up everything around you.... the people who choose to be around you, don't have a choice... in fact, they merely exist only in your mind. They're just paws, pawns in your little world for you to toy with, watch suffer and wither endlessly until you get bored and whip them away. It’s out of sight, out of mind, and literally, out of this world. Narcissistic bitch.
Sociopathic thoughts rock my world.
React, react, react. Think, fuck, lose everything inside, but gain more than you could imagine. Freedom, careless abilities... pain could no longer be an issue, the emotion of hurt or struggle seems distant, as though is had never dared to imprint before. Past? What past? I've never heard of such nonsense. It's all now, and now, and now, and now, and of course... now. Don't forget tomorrow. Judgment day will seize what you need, but you need to pass the text to ensure complete satisfactory. Tomorrow will slit your throat wide open and gaze at all of the suppressed sickness, so swallow it all down. Deeper, deeper, and now you're free to react. It's all about skill, and heartlessness. Lose everything and gain the world, in the mother-fucking palm of your hand.
Mmm metaphysics and mouse guts.
They think I'm crazy, but I know I have it all figured out.
