While thoughts of death just soothe and transpire,
I lay to claim "nothing is as cold as fire."
oxymoron from within, it burns like ice,
In a vice we dare skate upon thin, thin ice.
We are bred for battle- we live
only to die.
Fade slowly with honor, but find hell and not the sky.
Rightfully so, the gleaming blade of that knife,
by our blood- we find death in life.
Seeking but sought our own malicious vow,
Now we seek solace not in love but how
Mary Jane's jewels take our pain- her Crystal Meth,
And how we find virtue that life only begins with death.
the darkness to find the light,
Peace is sought through a brutal fight.
In my mind, these tendencies have already lodged.
a stray bullet flying through and I forgot to dodge.
I used to think about life before that bullet married my head
truly, you need to learn not to die before you are dead.
Of these odd itineraries that each describes fate,
the most dangerous fallacy with which to relate.
Columbine, our Two Towers, they call it a tragedy.
But look harder
and you'll find that war defines humanity.
Fighting is all I know. Fighting is all I have.
Only shattered pieces remain
of that perfect life that I once had.
To a blissful ending, the ruins become...
In a time where both voices and virtues
Her verse echoes and resounds in my head-
"Please baby, don't die before you are dead"
remains but ashes and vice,
Here's a new idea for the world- Fuck paradise.
Sometimes it's literal, sometimes it's mental-
About the most dangerous fallacy to you:
Pain will heal and your time will come but still,
A vague hint
of truth lies in the oxymoron- love kills.
"Cursed are those who keep their swords from blood"
got no commitment to my own flesh and blood.
"Cursed are those who use the Lord's name in vain"
Well FUCK the Lord,
Goddamn, now am I insane?