Sandpaper Wings

Eh life sucks for me so I write this kind of stuff.

The solitude of nothing is all I really have
When something comes with nothing it, all seems misplaced
And back again, I go to the identity crisis and the self-hating doubt
Double back again to the raindrop ashes of winter words
To let the livewire satellites watching the skies
Fall thru the atmospheres of mourn
A self-righteous ego pretending to care
Does the Christ of solemn connection turn his back on the broken?
A God in the midst of a loathing sandpaper cliché with three flowers battered and grey
Turning his back on the dreams bringing the nightmares again pristine.

Convict the corrupted you’ve saved taping on wings never really meant to stay
It was little less than a game so many end this way
Before the final answer, let me know how fun is this to really play.

Thought that thru the final spiral this would finally be it
Someone to help me down the neon ladders so ready to fall
But instead again something else pushes the balance
To break me off and send me into the hell that I’ll never leave
There was something less than a piece of scrap left for the hopeless and betrayed
So crawl into your comfort, into your beds so perfect
Serve the public abusers ready to throw on grease
Take away all the Saturday nights of peace
And let the fallen grow victim to the un-intolerable heartache
Smash the anvil captivity behind the bars of wood
And join part in the fun that everyone feels so good.

Letters to the solstice beauty blowing heads off the dry
Are never sent on with the line of battery wire
She will let your loves fall down with bullshit faker pose
So you can be given the chance again to set another free
From your brought on misery.