Well you’ve found yourself spinning but the rooms standing still and you want to keep living but just so you can kill and you lust for the sound of the bloodletting spill but the heat in your face just won’t subside till, you’ve squeezed your last fist; forgave your first kiss; stopped kicking your ass for opportunities missed; and its then that you’ll stand without help of hand and you’ll see with your eyes that the air isn’t sand, but till that day comes, you’ll succumb to the drums as the ache radiates from your neck to your thumbs, as the strength of your jaws grits your teeth into crumbs, and your thoughts race so fast that you’re speaking in tongues, one ounce of salt per inch of wound, your eyes fade black when you smell doom, and every movement feels cartooned, how do you stop the bleeding?; you stop to not think you stop to not drink you stop to remember last September and all the things that make you wish you’d died, how long you cried, and often sighed and the things that come just don’t subside, all these things and useless dings that scratch me up inside, leave me no place to hide, my eyes roll back; abide, and feel the pound and eat the ground and want to fall into the sound, that fills the moments, the sudden tyrants, the silly axis that keeps my mind bent, the wish for calm just to know the silence, the pray for courage to let my skull vent, the ease of confession just to kiss the serpent, and then rage and then rage and then rage because this rooms still spinning and the story’s just beginning, and you’d think I’m sick of sinning, but you’d be wrong ‘cause I’m still grinning, it’s the simple contradictions and the complicated fictions, and the convoluted frictions, how I satisfy myself with my delicious contradictions, how I constitute myself with life’s every day predictions, and the ease of it’s simplictions, ‘cause we make it up and I drink the cup, I keep looking for my convictions; like the beating of wings, hear the angel that sings, and the voice that raptures all things as they beat the air from the ground and extinguish all sound, we all lay sobbing like we’re all so profound, but the truth lies deadly and it gives you no spark, it’d rather lay quiet than inspire your ark, it’d rather smirk gladly to watch you weep sadly and dine fiendishly savage as it watched you ravage your foolish dominions and fevered opinions of skimmed off facts and minds that’ve cracked over things and just questions and demons suggestions and angels predestined to do nothing for you