i'm just a scar-scraped moon
i am the dumb and dead who writhes too soon
and i am the death of true iridescence
your love in pocket
perfumed like a fragrance

and all my sweet friend want to know
why i let these dumb girls come and go

the days of the sweet
are one one bitter treat
oh, what am i saying?
i get paid next week
and i find you so weak as you weep in your struggle
why you thought life would change will remain
a pointless puzzle

so ponder the boy that you lost
with words he is prophet but may
prophesize loss
forget that forgetting was your only cost
to be free
well, let's see
the door before the 7-11 still assures me

so i drank up my until the devil denied
got fine with available, lapses and rhymes
ensured of my death is an infinite turning?

the world gets so damn vacant when it loses
the bruises on the tracks of time