The World Is My Oyster, And It Tastes Like Shit.

Fingers in my eyes, the blind leading the blind.
Dragging myself to the brink of a black hole.
Hand over mouth, speak no evil, speak nothing at all.
The streets are filled with... no, say nothing at all.
Yet they are happy.
Little multiples of the one viral cell.
Coupled up like links in a fence.
(Asking nothing)
I can't help but question the direction I'm heading.
Cut away my body from all sense.

There is an abstraction.
There is an image.
There is nothing I want more than for this all to finish.
Feeding myself distractions.
Hiding from the sky that's falling.
I think I can catch it all. I know I could catch it all.

Rebuild it into a stairway to heaven.
And arrive at the gates as a trojan horse.

Someone's levelled the buildings for miles.
Someone's opened up the horizon, it's too horrible to take in.
Someone's given me freedom, and now my body's caving.
The question I'm always asking:

How can I love someone else
When I can't even love myself?

I will take and take and bleed you dry
And all you will do is love me. I'm so sorry.