A
Ary L
Guest
Bleed inside, but never out You ask me what the pain’s about
The world is cruel, cold and mean And I offer my neck to the guillotine,
Just to feel the final slice Hurts like rejection, which feels so nice
Glitters like diamonds, this razorblade shine I realize this pool of blood is mine
That drips like honey slow molasses Show the hurt through magnified glasses.
Crouching low, it’s pale and dead it raises up a grinning head
Like a skull, with tombstone teeth, I wrap him in a shroud-like sheet
To mask the eyes that see within I offer up the best to him. He sews me up with midnight thread,
And chains me to the lifeless dead So we may speak of hell and earth
An idea that bound me right at birth- So many souls were doomed to die
The moment they uttered their first cry And I was just another stone
To write the words that proclaim ‘alone’, To withhold the right to come back home.
So many souls will fall to bones And crawl back into rising dust
These razorblades will one day rust So use them while your fingers grasp
This despair in their cold clasp
For a little longer, this pain will linger Slice a wrist, a thigh, a finger
Only to see the swelling blood
One cut, ten cuts, it’s never enough To express the misery you feel so deep
It bleeds afresh when you’re asleep.
Scattered like the fallen leavesYour conscience begs you, “pretty please- Save me from this endless day That lays me open in every way”.
I crawl the path of the walking dead,
I see the roaring flames ahead That devours those that lived in vain
it smells of regret like perfumed pain. The reaper and I are one in the same
We roll the dice and play the game
Kings and queens, we fall in line;
A deal we never meant to sign
To bind us to the melting moon
We left the sacred earth too soon.
We never meant to hurt or care This burden is too much to bear,
And we are just the lonely souls That lay down in their graveyard holes.
You think you’re walking on the dead? You are wrong. They’re overhead Watching as we waste our days While the thread of lie slowly fray
Until mere slivers hold us here- It’s the encompassing doom I mostly fear
Rather than the eyes of those
Who fall before the pendulum slows
Upon the neck of the tortured soul
Who found it was his only goal
To be the body in the county square Careless, headless, a man so rare
We are many, but we are few
Compared to those who look like you
And talk like you and dream like you
And echo all the things you do.
The guillotines scream for a living thing,
And the church bells here will always ring
To take in count this mounting death. The few. The proud. We’re all that’s left Still here to wander the empty streets That rise to replace the numbing beats That silence out your monotone Which whispers “You are all alone”. So bring the shining blades to me And blind my eyes so I can see. I sacrifice my beating heart Only to tear the world apart And fill the void with crimson red. The few. The proud. The living dead
The world is cruel, cold and mean And I offer my neck to the guillotine,
Just to feel the final slice Hurts like rejection, which feels so nice
Glitters like diamonds, this razorblade shine I realize this pool of blood is mine
That drips like honey slow molasses Show the hurt through magnified glasses.
Crouching low, it’s pale and dead it raises up a grinning head
Like a skull, with tombstone teeth, I wrap him in a shroud-like sheet
To mask the eyes that see within I offer up the best to him. He sews me up with midnight thread,
And chains me to the lifeless dead So we may speak of hell and earth
An idea that bound me right at birth- So many souls were doomed to die
The moment they uttered their first cry And I was just another stone
To write the words that proclaim ‘alone’, To withhold the right to come back home.
So many souls will fall to bones And crawl back into rising dust
These razorblades will one day rust So use them while your fingers grasp
This despair in their cold clasp
For a little longer, this pain will linger Slice a wrist, a thigh, a finger
Only to see the swelling blood
One cut, ten cuts, it’s never enough To express the misery you feel so deep
It bleeds afresh when you’re asleep.
Scattered like the fallen leavesYour conscience begs you, “pretty please- Save me from this endless day That lays me open in every way”.
I crawl the path of the walking dead,
I see the roaring flames ahead That devours those that lived in vain
it smells of regret like perfumed pain. The reaper and I are one in the same
We roll the dice and play the game
Kings and queens, we fall in line;
A deal we never meant to sign
To bind us to the melting moon
We left the sacred earth too soon.
We never meant to hurt or care This burden is too much to bear,
And we are just the lonely souls That lay down in their graveyard holes.
You think you’re walking on the dead? You are wrong. They’re overhead Watching as we waste our days While the thread of lie slowly fray
Until mere slivers hold us here- It’s the encompassing doom I mostly fear
Rather than the eyes of those
Who fall before the pendulum slows
Upon the neck of the tortured soul
Who found it was his only goal
To be the body in the county square Careless, headless, a man so rare
We are many, but we are few
Compared to those who look like you
And talk like you and dream like you
And echo all the things you do.
The guillotines scream for a living thing,
And the church bells here will always ring
To take in count this mounting death. The few. The proud. We’re all that’s left Still here to wander the empty streets That rise to replace the numbing beats That silence out your monotone Which whispers “You are all alone”. So bring the shining blades to me And blind my eyes so I can see. I sacrifice my beating heart Only to tear the world apart And fill the void with crimson red. The few. The proud. The living dead