No cover,
no bigger rush.
No other,
so much for this shit.
There lies the favor,
love her or hate her,
here is your saviour;
shrouded in malcontents.
Sit and wonder
how I stand,
what I’ve done
with my own hands.
Draw out this distorted love,
where is the one
that I dream of?
Corrode – condense.
No more makes no sense.
These lines offend,
self indulgent
with no friends.
‘Cause the low is lovely,
holy loss above me.
All in loss for rotten,
pain of life forgotten.
All of the meaning is just
beating out the weak and shallow,
hollow break this,
slow down some.
All love for
the living none.
Rupture…
…torture…
…this pleasure…
…exposure…………………fuck.
HG – 2000-2005
